


A Few Screws Loose is the New Normal

by Mistakes_and_Experiments



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Adventure, Awesome Darcy Lewis, Awesome Jane Foster, Awesome Pepper Potts, BAMF Women, Competence Kink, Epic-length Fic, Expies Everywhere, F/M, Fantasy, Female Characters, Female Friendships, Friends-with-benefits, Fun with Tags, Geeks, Gen, Not Iron Man 3 Compliant, Political Thriller, Politics, SCIENCE!, Science Fiction, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Speculative fiction, Strong Language, Swearing, Thor: The Dark World Spoilers, expies, friendships, geeky conversations, nerds, nerdy conversations, norse mythology & folklore, political science, world-building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-03-31 23:28:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 47
Words: 337,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3997249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistakes_and_Experiments/pseuds/Mistakes_and_Experiments
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darcy Lewis’ current life consists of risking her breakable, non-superpowered life and limb against weird physics crap. She still doesn't know much about quantum mechanics, but she valued her friendships by their weight in gold so she stays as Jane’s assistant. The astrophysicist was only too glad for Darcy’s ability to see through possible political ramifications of her scientific findings and Darcy was happy to stay. </p><p>Oddly enough, Darcy’s fine with this life.</p><p>Yet even those shenanigans were nothing compared to the power plays and political chess she was driven to read and learn—there was nothing in her life of that calibre. Though she didn’t want to admit it, she craved for something more.</p><p>Enter one Loki of Asgard, captive of the Avengers. With his magic bound, the most harm he could do was shredding someone’s ego with his sharp tongue. Darcy is up to the challenge and he'll soon find out there's more to her than meets the eye. Behind all this, dark plans laid against the earth unfolds. Jane and Darcy hunts for the truth with the power of <em>SCIENCE!</em></p><p>Let the games begin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I. Just Another Day at the Beach

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT: I've also uploaded this story to Fanfiction.net under the handle of _Orange et Blue Morality_. So if you've noticed that, keep calm and carry on.
> 
> **Introduction:**
> 
> (Read only if you’re that curious to know what drove me to write this. If you want a shorter overview of my idea for the story, check the 'ingredients')
> 
> This began as a random musing on the oh-so-normal Darcy Lewis. I don’t even expect her to have anything world-breaking, just awesome in the mundane way that normal people could be (and also for that political science interest of hers to mean something). Somehow, my favourite (crack) ship from the ‘verse got caught in it as well. I should also have realised at some point that I’ve never managed to write anything without building a world for it, so pretty geeky and nerdy stuffs got incorporated. It turned into a Katamari ball of what I want to read from a story and everything went downhill from there. 
> 
> The final push came from a reread of _‘Machiavelli’s Favorite Son’_ on ffnet—It had the concept I was always looking for—of Darcy being shown as not stupid, just a fish out of her own waters. It also reminded me that I liked Machiavelli’s _‘The Prince’_ when I read it and I think it’s underappreciated. Since that story seems to be on a hiatus for the time being, I thought I might as well put in my best effort at plugging the gap than whine, yeah? So I put down the story I’d been thinking about all this time. Further introspection has also reminded me that Yavannie's _'Shine Without Fear'_ (it's on AO3) had stayed with me on the sheer strength of and agency of the female characters there. And so, I wonder, why aren't there more stories like that?
> 
> I know, I know. I have no real excuses. I don’t know how this will end either, or if I can finish it, but I know the journey’s going to be interesting.
> 
> PS: Don’t mind me and my Commonwealth spelling.
> 
> **Ingredients** (Most of them, at least): 
> 
> \- Awesome Darcy Lewis  
>  \- Conversations (lots and lots)  
>  \- Nerdy conversations (lots)  
>  \- Occasional geeky references  
>  \- For _SCIENCE!_  
>  \- Friendships and camaraderie  
>  \- Action may be on the slow side  
>  \- Female characters living their life and being awesome  
>  \- Female friendships  
>  \- World building  
>  \- Plot, stacked with schemes  
>  \- Seriously, everyone has something up their sleeves  
>  \- Friends-with-benefits  
>  \- I’m not familiar with the comic ‘verse, prefers the myth-verse better.  
>  \- Comic ‘verse characters that are based on mythology and haven’t come up in MCU will not exist: I’ll simply reinterpret the myth into characters of my own. Will definitely not stick into it too literally either. Consider this your last and only warning on this matter. 
> 
> **Does not contain:**  
>  \- Angst (I would definitely throw obstacles to the main characters, I just wouldn’t use lots of angst)  
>  \- Victim!Darcy, or any other Victim!Character for that matter. I don't tend to hand my characters the idiot ball and I _always_ leave them with enough initiative. I don't read about people getting their will broken, I don't write about it either. If I want to write how people get broken down, I'd write a torture and/or social/psychological conditioning manual.
> 
>  **May contain traces of nuts.** (Who am I kidding? It probably has lots of nuts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Jane would deny being a workaholic until the end of the world, but the dictionary definition had her picture on it. Darcy can’t stand being bored and because of that is content enough to keep working with Jane—also, Darcy always took care of her friends._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a repetition of the technical note on chapter 4: reading this on mobile Chrome will eat the italics. This will affect enjoyment and comprehension. (Yes, seriously, there are specific occasions where I employ italics for dialogue).

## Part I - Salad Days

### I. Just Another Day at the Beach

“I knew I said we need fresh air Boss-Lady, but I’m pretty sure this isn’t the answer,” Darcy raised her voice a little against the wind.

She stared at the dark and dense clouds at the horizon, spread up in grand arcs above. Layers upon layers piled up in an awe-inspiring work of nature’s cathedral. The ominous rumble of thunder was as easily heard through her ribcage as well as her ears. Weird-coloured flashes of light lit the grand swirling cloud from the inside like Wonka's x-ray. She would’ve appreciated the celestial view it made even more if, you know, she was at the _safety of her living room couch and watching it live on TV_ and not trying to come toe-to-toe with it.

Even as she thought of this, her steps did not falter. She checked the two-thirds of Jane’s equipment in the same order she always did by force of habit. These were ones the astrophysicist deemed to be not important enough to manage personally, so they were Darcy’s responsibility. Hardware wasn’t usually her thing, but _these_ babies she knew very well already. She was glad that Jane had agreed when she insisted that they put the generator farther away from where they are, or any conversation would be impossible.

She could accept reckless endangerment from her job—she just wasn’t going to take boredom on top of it too.

“You did say you wanted a holiday,” Jane shot back, managing to sound just as wry in her half-shout. She stopped monitoring several of her devices at once and spread her arms wide. “Tada! Beach holiday!”

She rolled her eyes. “I’d like a tropical beach, thanks! _Not_ the set of Twister!”

“I don’t see you complaining about the hazard pay you negotiated from Stark.” Jane pointed out. She had tied her hair in a bun, as had Darcy, because the wind had been whipping in their faces since they’ve arrived. Both were wearing rain coats even if it was nothing but a light drizzle—the rain hadn’t been predictable.

Darcy shrugged. “Eeh, still waiting for that complete dental coverage by-the-way, instead of partway. The health insurance sure is great otherwise, though.”

That was an understatement. It was completely worth writing home about. The health insurance certainly made her job look completely impressive and adult-worthy on paper. _Like, you know, a functioning and productive member of society_. Heck, it made her mother proud and Ms. Lewis who’d spent half her life waitressing _would not stop_ talking about it to anyone who asked about what her daughter was doing, working for Stark Industries’ Research and Development as a Researcher (on paper, it was Assistant Researcher) in its New York HQ. It was definitely far from where Darcy grew up in Bumfuck Nowhere. Darcy was too embarrassed to tell her she’s only a lowly peon among many (not that she wanted her mother to stop glowing so much about it, no. It was… well, it was _complicated_ ).

“Holy shit, are those _boats?_ ”

Jane whipped her head back in the direction that Darcy was staring. True to her words, a semi-transparent vortex had formed above the water. White flecked bits and bigger grey blobs were sucked up into it from the surface of the sea, and in some cases, dashed into so many flotsam and jetsam in the process. They were no more substantial than toothpicks in the face of the storm.

“I think they’re ships,” Jane said, wide-eyed. They had both stopped their current activity in favour of staring at the morbid view. _How many people are on each—no, don’t think about it Darcy. Not right now. We don’t need a freak out now_.

“We put out a warning, you know,” Jane said faintly, as if she had been thinking the exact same thing as Darcy. “I heard evacuations had been underway since this morning.”

The assistant only nodded at that as they stood side-by-side, at loss for words. She knew they’d done their best, because Jane had warned them of a potential anomaly from half a week ago. Jane had returned to her monitoring and note taking, though for some reason she’d outstretched her left hand, as if waiting for something.

Jane wiggled her fingers and Darcy burst into laughter.

“Jane, you know that we’ve lost Interns 1 and 2 again, don’t you?”

Jane looked up, still with a half-glazed look of someone lost to ‘ _Science!_ ’ “Huh?”

“Interns 1 and 2,” Darcy said easily. She didn’t make that much of an effort to remember their names anymore before they’ve passed the one-month limit. “They’ve requested a transfer or whatever it says on paper after we dragged them on that portal survey? You remember? The one on the Appalachians?”

Jane frowned in recollection. “Anomaly Number Six? What? That wasn’t even as bad as Anomaly Number _Two!_ The boundary was rapidly collapsing on that one until Dr. Strange arrived!”

Darcy nodded as she got caught up in the same memory. “Yeah, I had to drag you all the way to the car. We’re not getting sphagettified on my watch, Boss-Lady.”

“It wasn’t really that bad, the event horizon had been progressing at a predictable rate,” Jane insisted. Darcy rolled her eyes. _I repeat; we’re not getting sphagettified on my watch_.

“Would you argue with Dr. Strange on what you’ve got?” Darcy asked. Jane shot her a dirty look and she only smiled her best, gullible-looking expression of ‘ _who, me? I’m just the intern_ ’ that worked wonders in getting her wandering unnoticed around at the Avengers’ tower.

“That was a low blow, Lewis.”

“The only kind of blow worth getting,” Darcy let out a satisfied sigh and a waggle of her eyebrows. “The lower the better.”

It spoke of the unhealthy amount work and more work they’d spent together that the scientist could actually chuckle at that instead of staring at her oddly without comprehension (that was what Jane used to be, too far up on the higher brain activity end).

“You want me to make us some coffee?” Darcy finally asked. She eyed the field tent behind them.

Jane sighed and lowered her report. “It’s not supposed to be your job anymore—”

“Don’t worry, I don’t mind,” and she truly didn’t. Jane was more friend than superior now, due to all the crap they’ve gone through together. She knew Jane didn’t mean anything by it. She was also quite aware that her coffee-making skills were on the top 5% in the whole Stark Tower.

Not that she hacked any database to find out about that, no Sir.

“This is the third pair of interns we’ve lost, isn’t it?”

“They’re the fifth.” Darcy corrected.

“No, that’s not possible—”

Darcy let out a fond sigh after she jumped over several cables and boxes. Jane never really did keep all that ‘extraneous information’ (to her) at the top of her head—and not that she needed to, most of the time. Darcy was the one who dealt with the administrative side on a regular basis. It usually took a while until Jane remembered things that weren’t science related, and her friend was prepared to just let her mull over it as usual. _Now where was that coffee machine? I’m pretty sure it’s one of the first things I’ve plugged in_.

Ten minutes later, the latest batch of information that needed to be taken down had been recorded completely, and the two of them were sitting in cheap plastic chairs with coffee in hand staring at the roiling storm clouds spread out in the vista in front of them. The weather was bracing and her cheeks were going to get numb if she didn’t occasionally rub it, but in her opinion it was _still_ better than the heat of New Mexico. Plus, the view _was_ beautiful. She was sure some composer could write several arias just staring at it.

That was one thing Jane would never disappoint—she always took Darcy to the most exotic places.

“Are you sure they’re not the fourth pair of interns?” Jane asked, absently sipping her cup of liquid ambrosia.

“Nope. I had to actually approve them, so I remember it pretty well.” _Because Jane would sooner dance naked in the rain than touch non-scientific paperwork_ , Darcy thought.

“Why do we keep losing them?”

Darcy shrugged and enjoyed her drink. She wasn’t sure if Jane was seriously asking or was only poking at it because she had nothing else to do now and she was bad at waiting. If she had a scab she’d pick on it. “Dunno. I mean, the hazard pay was _really good_.”

“And the research is certainly important for world safety,” Jane added.

“Uh-huh,” Darcy nodded with a content sigh, still stuck on that hazard pay issue. She knew there were probably municipal fire-fighters who received less than she did. _And the insurance coverage has got to be seen to be believed_. Her brother was in the army and she was pretty sure he’d be jealous if he knew. _Damn, when was the last time you wrote to him, Darce?_

“We saved the world at least twice already!”

“Yep. You also had a near-death experience just as often, and almost died _at least_ once.”

She felt compelled to point out what it looks like from the perspective of the interns, of having this freaking scary job with the fearless danger-chasing boss, because she had once been an intern too. Also, she was sure that not every intern was as awesome as Darcy Lewis. It stands to reason, really. There was only one of her in this world, and they would just have to accept the less-awesome interns as a fact-of-life.

“But it’s nothing compared to the progress we make and the things we find out!” Jane added.

“Uh-huh.”

“Not to mention the advances in basic science that we can contribute to.”

The two of them were still mesmerized by the water being sucked _up_ into the twister… and was it supposed to be generating lightning too? Darcy didn’t know much about physics beyond gravity attracts stuff to each other and rocks fall because of it, but she’d bet her iPod (new, no thanks to Coulson) that a tornado isn’t supposed to look like that.

It was still uncommonly pretty. Darcy took more shots on her iPhone just to be safe.

“Uncovering the truth is worth a lot, isn’t it?” Jane continued. “What else do we live for, anyway?”

“I don’t think you should be asking me about that Jane. _I’m_ the one sitting right next to you for near death experiences and completely okay with it now. My first reflex in seeing a fireball now is to take a picture.” She answered with an easy shrug. It was true. That was just how her life was nowadays.

“Back then? I’m more used to running away from stuff like these too. Most people are probably like that, they’re not naturally wired for this.”

Jane deflated, rubbing her forehead in silence. Darcy felt a bit bad about it. It was almost like telling a kindergartener that Santa Claus is a lie.

“Well, on a brighter note, _this_ anomaly is sure a pretty light show compared to some of the earlier ones. We could get a decent enough measurement far, and I mean _far_ away from its boundaries, right? Unlike Anomaly Two?” Darcy rushed. Jane visibly perked up again.

“Yeah, based on the amount of radiation I can detect this is a higher-energy one, so it’s more visible at larger distances. Its growth should progress at a predictable rate. I might be extrapolating the upper end of its radiance a bit using the Cauchy-Lorentz distribution when it comes to—”

Darcy blinked, tried to follow Jane for a moment and realised that three sentences in, she was grasping at straws already. The less said about how much she understood when Jane was one paragraph in, the better.

“—but the salience of this unconventional use has actually been borne out by the last four anomalies we observed—”

“Errrr, okay.” _Nod and smile, Lewis! Nod and smile!_

She kept telling Jane not to get too technical in her theoretical explanations, but the scientist had never seemed to take it into account. She probably did not meet like minds in her (small and very specialised) field too often.

“…so unless it has merged with another anomaly that can increase its size, it would remain on the same energy level.”

“ _Okay,_ ” she answered, even firmer than before, hoping that somehow Jane got the hint. Of course, that was expecting a bit much. Fortunately, it seems she was a sentence away from the end.

“We’re pretty safe actually,” Jane stated. Darcy only nodded along because she sure as hell couldn’t re-run all the calculations Jane had done—and if she had been too worried about her continued presence in the plane of the living, she would have quit being Jane’s assistant ages ago.

 “Right.”

There were streaks of movement above them, superheroes flying in, she’d guess. There was probably some über-cool aerial battle in place right there and not for the first time she wished someone had a drone she could hack. And because life just loves to mess with them that way, she was pretty sure that a large ball of lightning some people (heroes, supervillains, she didn’t keep track) had been tossing back and forth had _just_ been swallowed by that vortex. Darcy took a deep breath.

“You were talking,” she said carefully, “about the Twister McTwisty getting bigger after it ate something like that?”

Jane paled. “I think… we should get moving?”

They dashed up, unfolding in frantic movements as Darcy picked up the reports and occasional data hard copy Jane had scattered while the astrophysicist dealt with the more critical hardware. Darcy would probably need to pick up the peripheral machines later.

Darcy stared at her boss with disbelief. “Of course we should move! Why does that even sound like a _question_?”

“We could move three miles inwards and set up everything again and—”

“Jane!”

Jane threw her hands in the air, “It was just a suggestion!”

“You’re an astrophysicist, not a meteorologist!”

“It’s not my fault the storm followed the anomaly! I don’t understand enough of the magic bullcrap yet and how it has ionizing properties even when it doesn’t have any ionizing radiation I can detect! Also, I’ll have you know, no one has come up with a consistent name for the study of microcosmic space-time folds, which incidentally, began with the study of distortions on the macrocosmic scale in outer space!”

“ _Jane!_ ”

“I’m moving, I’m moving!”

‘-

Darcy wasn’t complaining about Jane’s madcap driving right then, not if it was helping them eat miles from where a crazy twister decided to get an upsize. The silence had been tense for the first two miles or so—her efforts at turning on the radio lead them to channels talking about a disease outbreak in Colorado, another channel change and she was provided with more of the same.

“What’s that?” Jane asked.

“They’re shutting off flights to Denver,” the words came out of her mouth in a rush. What she didn’t have to say was, _it’s still as bad_. They’d been hearing about the outbreak on and off in the last several days, anyway.

“ _…the mortality rate has reached 341—_ ”

Darcy winced and quickly pressed on. _Nope, not catching up with that now._

The remaining channels were cheesy country music and bland pop that she didn’t like, so Darcy gave up and turned the radio back off.

“You know, if we didn’t catch this anomaly in time and alert the Avengers, there’s a chance that an unnatural hurricane could develop,” Jane said.

“So it’s not just some weird-ass portal?”

“’weird-ass’ portals always ended up spitting out something bad,” Jane said with surprising vehemence. “They’re never _just_ portals.”

Darcy grinned. “Awww, Jane, you’re trying to cheer me up? You don’t need to, but thanks all the same.”

Jane blushed, “No, nonono. I’m just trying to tell you that what we’re doing is important in its own right…”

She wondered when Jane was going to figure out that the reason Darcy teased her so much was because she was too serious for her own good, but it seems that Project Mellow Out Jane Foster was still going to be on for a while.

They’d passed unharmed after a while and there was nothing too extraordinary (there was the occasional ball lightning that Darcy certainly didn’t forget to capture). It was _so_ going on her Facebook. And Instagram. All those well-connected daddy’s girls who somehow managed to get desk jobs and internships as aides in DC in a tanking economy are going to go green with envy about all the travelling she gets from hers. _Take that Rita Saunders!_

Other than that, no emergency happened. Darcy was beginning to get bored. Well, there was always the coffee she’d transferred into a tumbler, but she wasn’t enthusiastic about being forced to find a toilet in the next half hour or so if she didn’t measure the amount of liquids she drank carefully.

“Did you tell Thor that we’re going to go storm-chasing today?” She asked.

“He’s aware that I’m not going to give up my work for anything.” Jane replied.

 _Hello non-answer._ “Uh huh, and you’ve told him about the latest bunch of anomalies you’re investigating, right?”

“Well, whose job would it be if it wasn’t ours?”

In any other condition, Darcy would be happy that Jane wasn’t taking her eyes off the road, but right now it only worried her. Far be it from her to get between a woman and her denial… Jane would’ve met Thor sooner than later, right? And there was no way he wouldn’t find out what his girlfriend was up to while he was off fighting the big bads. Still, she had to do her duty as a friend to say _something_.

“You haven’t told him, haven’t you?”

The stubborn set of Jane’s jaw told Darcy everything.

‘-

It wasn’t long before they hit the nearest town that SHIELD had somehow appropriated as a temporary base here. The men-in-blacks also set up a roadblock of sort in the direction they came from to keep civilians out of the way.  It also didn’t surprise either of them that as soon as they sat down in the nearest diner, they were greeted by none other than Coulson. Where the man had hidden himself to avoid her notice when she first stepped through the door, Darcy had no idea.

“Dr. Foster, Ms. Lewis. Everything had gone smoothly, I expect?”

(Actually if all his ambush meetings were accompanied by fresh pancakes along with that enigmatic smile, she didn’t think she’d mind his appearances that much. It was the ones in the middle of the night due to emergencies that were a pain).

“Agent Coulson,” Jane replied briskly.

“Yo, Son of Coul,” Darcy nodded back. She pretended she didn’t notice the extra seconds’ worth of _look_ she got. She grinned. “Thanks a lot for the food.”

Coulson had focused his attention back on Jane at this point.

“What can we expect from the anomaly?”

As Darcy dug in, Jane gave him a brief rundown of what she’d found out. Darcy tried not to think that it meant she’d had to finish the written report by the end of the day and just gave her attention to the more deserving pancakes. They had been working with SHIELD all this time, just not _for_ SHIELD. As a poli-sci major, she had loudly informed Jane that giving more knowledge (and power) to a government organization with questionable oversight was not a good idea. Sure, Stark wasn’t a saint either, but Jane could certainly claim her rights over her work better (it wouldn’t disappear into the darkness of some government vault, never to see the light of day until the Powers That Be wish it). Stark was also nowhere near SHIELD level in power and influence. Jane had reluctantly agreed and Darcy did a victory dance in SHIELD’s office at the time.

The fact that it gave Coulson the occasional tic in his left eye was just a bonus.

Even through the windows of the diner, she could hear the incoming whoosh of a pair of rockets. Darcy saw the familiar red-and-gold streak that was Ironman. People were starting to stare up at the sky and the occasional town citizens had even been walking to see where he would land.

Tony Stark just _had_ to land and shifted his suit back into suitcase form in front of an amazed crowd. (Darcy went out at this point. Between staying put for Jane debriefing Coulson on freaky dimensional shit and the Avengers landing, it was no contest). Thor followed not long after, a far off sonic boom a few moments before the only hint of his impending arrival. He landed on a crouch, generating a mild wave of air in front of him that was felt by the audience. That got more ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ from the crowd than Iron Man’s landing.

“Oh come _on_! That is _so_ not fair,” Stark groused. Thor was too busy smiling at the people around him to notice. Darcy was too busy staring at the glowy thing at the centre of Tony Stark’s chest.

The arc reactor. It wasn’t the first time she saw it but she was far from used to its unearthly light. She thought that it cast a little halo of its own, reminding her of pictures of medieval sainted kings.

Hawkeye joined them from somewhere between the ranks of the men-in-blacks. One moment he wasn’t there and then he was. _SHIELD must give their agents ninja training_.

“I don’t know what you’re complaining about. Some of us can’t even fly without getting a lift.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony mumbled with a hand wave.

He either didn’t notice Barton’s long-suffering look, or his ego was so big that anything smaller was below his detection threshold. As in, the only thing he considered worth noticing then was himself.

“But you haven’t been trying to fly for as long as you remember. You’ll _live_.”

“And you won’t?” He asked, dryly.

“I’m positively devastated right now and tearing up inside. _Really_.” Stark insisted. “SHIELD is going to have to pay me to fix my emotional trauma.”

“You know that feeding trolls only make them worse, don’t you?” Darcy pointed out to Barton, trying to act all cool and casual instead of skipping with glee that she was talking to the _Avengers_ instead of just getting a nod or a brief look acknowledgement when they pass her down the halls. She was sure they knew her by face already, if not name.

“Hey, I’m _grieving_ over here!”

“If you keep giving him attention he’d be even more of a pain in the ass to you.” She continued as if Tony hadn’t said anything.

Hawkeye spared Stark one last side glance. “Thanks for the heads up.” Patted her on the shoulder, and walked right into the diner without as much as a goodbye to Tony. The billionaire pouted. _It really is not fair that a grown up man could act like a four year old and still look attractive_ , Darcy thought. He could certainly dial up the intensity of his smoulder and his perfectly messy bedhead. She knew of his engagement with Pepper Potts, CEO, but she was a hot-blooded woman with eyes, dammit.

“Why do you have to go and ruin that for? Oh, _hello_ sexy librarian.”

“Common human decency?” Darcy replied, not too amused by the direction that his eyes wandered at. Surprisingly, it didn’t actually last long and it wasn’t half as lecherous as his reputation implied it would be. She suspected it was his version of a quick assessment and partly to keep up said reputation. Not that he wasn’t interested at all—her breasts were awesome, and she was a connoisseur to the many types of gazes that they collect. Yet Tony Stark had more layers than an onion.

“Alright, you’re forgiven for that. You’re forgiven for a lot of things in advance,” Tony clapped his hands, “if you’d only accompany me for a meal. Whaddya say?”

She grinned. She _loved_ working at Stark Tower. She’d already met Captain America and Hawkeye in the gyms now, and she could add Iron Man on that list.

“I’d love to take you up on that, Tony, but I probably need to play peacekeeper for Janey and the golden god for a bit.”

She considered the right to call him Tony as fair payment for staring at her boobs.

“You need to what?” he asked.

Tony followed Darcy’s hand and sure enough, there was a worried Asgardian in a tense conversation with a stubborn petite scientist. That wiped the smirk out of his face.

“Uh, great! Have fun being third wheel.”

He disappeared faster than a supermodel’s panties at a Stark party. It would’ve amused Darcy on any other time, but she was more concerned with her friends and she walked in their direction. A thick blanket of cloud still covered the town, but this far from the coast, there was barely any rain. The conversation between the Thor and Jane might’ve been a bit more heated than usual, but for a guy who solves his problems with a magic hammer, Thor listened a lot to Jane.

“My apologies, Jane, but I cannot bear the thought of you in danger.”

Damn, Thor was giving his girlfriend a look of extreme sadness; it reminded Darcy of a retriever who wasn’t allowed to go play outside. _How did Jane ever hold out against the puppy sadface?_

Jane was distressed.  “ _I_ don’t want to think of you getting smashed by supervillains every day you’re out there, but I know you have to do it Thor, and I’ve _never_ said anything about it. Can’t you see that I can’t abandon my life’s work either?”

 Ah, that was how. ‘For Science!’ Of course Jane wouldn’t forget her first love that easily.

“The vortex rained mighty destruction on great ships spanning several longboats, Jane! I cannot help but imagine what would happen to you if it landed on the coast.” He sounded forlorn.

“But it didn’t land!” Jane insisted, “I was completely _fine_.”

Right, there goes her cue to nudge a little.

“We were fine, big guy,” Darcy stepped in by Jane’s side. “Jane’s work showed how far the twister’s going to mambo, and we keep off the dance floor. Isn’t that right, Jane? You were _never_ going to put us in danger like that when you could do your calculations and know better, _right_?”

Darcy wasn’t above a little guilt trip to get her point across, and colour rose on Jane’s face satisfactorily. The physicist certainly couldn’t complain about her friend’s support, though. Jane laid a hand on Thor’s forearm. The lines on Thor’s forehead softened, and her friends were caught in each other’s gazes once more.

 “I know I can’t promise you to stay away from danger, because I can’t live like that. I’m sorry for worrying you, though. I promise I’d always be careful, Thor.”

 _Hopefully, she’d use a larger safety margin from now on_ , Darcy thought.

The brunette couldn’t stop the soft smile from rising on her face, before she gently stepped away and left them to it. Jane and Thor could handle most of it on their own; they just needed to get off the part where they try to outstubborn each other. Now, if she was lucky, Tony hadn’t finished eating yet and she might enjoy his company for lunch. How many assistants could say they were invited to lunch by Tony _Stark?_ She intended to have the maximum amount of fun possible for as long a she stayed at Avengers HQ.

 _Anyways, it’s just lunch._ She wasn’t delusional about where his heart is—she only wanted some eye candy when she can get ‘em. As Darcy made her way through the throngs of agents now filling the diner, she could see Tony eating alone despite the place being almost filled to capacity now. He hadn’t seen her yet since his attention was either on his StarkPad or his burger. She guessed he’d annoyed Hawkeye enough that the agent stayed away from him.

She’d never thought that Tony Stark ate like a slob when he’s not in front of the cameras. He _still_ managed to make it look endearing than messy. _It’s so unfair_ , she thought with a sigh.

Darcy stopped next to his table, all casual-like.

“Is this seat taken? Because I’m not going back to my boss’ table and get dragged into a lunch meeting. I actually need to _eat_.”

Tony grinned. “Go ahead and take a seat, Velma.”

 ‘-


	2. II. Darcy Plugs Herself to the Gossip Network

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Because ever since she was small, Darcy was always that kid who poked at everything and talked to everyone and just had to find out about all that was going on. Her favourite word also happens to be ‘why’. What’s more fitting than for her to poke around the Avengers Tower with a pot of coffee?_

### II. Darcy Plugs Herself to the Gossip Network

“Jane, this is nine o’clock, and I’m fully aware that you’ve been here since before _seven_.” Darcy stated. Sure, they’d only been at Stark-slash-Avengers Tower for a month and the place is beyond cool and worth exploring further, but even _she_ would want to get home some time soon.

“I just need to run the data one more time,” Jane mumbled.

Darcy dropped herself on the couch. Jane’s corner of the lab was empty, and all the lowly lab interns (when they had any) were fortunate enough to actually have a 9-to-5 job written on their contract. But eh, _hazard pay_. She knew what she was signing up for when she continued to work under Jane. Besides, how many new people could work out Jane’s file system within one day and hit the ground running without going nuts first? Not many, that’s what. Jane couldn’t think of anyone else she wanted to work with as her assistant either. Of course, she would bet that she’d only need to wander away to the lab’s other annexes to find Tony or Dr. Banner, but she was counting the normal peeps as opposed to absentminded and workaholic scientists.

“Jane, you know I can shut down your computer remotely from mine, don’t you?” Darcy cheerfully informed her.

“Don’t you _dare_.” Darcy ignored her and proceeded to skip up from the couch.

“Five minutes, Janey!”

“Nooooo…”

Why being told to go home made Jane sound as if her soul was being sucked out was something Darcy had stopped questioning.

“You don’t want me to tell Thor about your bad work habits, do you?” Darcy replied from her own computer. She ignored the annoyed look Jane sent her as the scientist started saving files and closing programs. Darcy didn’t actually try to access Jane’s computer for real—she just sat there to spin on her fabulous chair—it looked more like an exhibit at MoMA than office furniture, which seemed to be par for the course when working with Stark.

“What’s to complain about getting your godly boyfriend staging an intervention? I bet it’s a very satisfying intervention,” Darcy asked.

She could see a slight blush over Jane’s face as her friend resolutely did not answer. She also ignored Jane’s continued curses and mutterings under her breath and listened instead to the musical sound of her PC powering down. _Yippee_.

“Great! See you tomorrow, Jane!”

“You’re not leaving yet?” Jane stared at her in suspicion, as if she suspected Darcy was going to get extra work in where Jane couldn’t. Darcy rolled her eyes.

“I’m tidying up because tomorrow’s the weekend?” It was kinda sad that she found it completely acceptable to be spending the night with Jane in the lab than going out to a club. Damn, Jane was turning her into a recluse too.

“But I’d still be here on Saturday,” Jane replied.

“And if I don’t start organising now, it would be even worse by the end of next week. _Someone’s_ got to do it Janey, and I’m sure that person sure isn’t you.”

Jane had to concede that and grudgingly took her bag with her. Darcy waved at her from her own chair, pretending she had nothing better to do but just lounging about. Her friend and boss was still giving her suspicious glances now and then as she walked out, but Darcy kept spinning on her chair (seriously, it was an awesome, ergonomic chair and she wanted to take it home with her and feed it properly so it would give her little chair babies). Once she was sure she heard the distinct ping of the elevator arriving, she got out of the chair and started collecting the scattered papers.

If she had started doing something before Jane got out, her friend would’ve tried to help and used that excuse to stay. Really, she was getting too familiar with all the wily ways of Jane Foster.

_Now, to collect all the data on the Twister of Doom into a box labelled Anomaly Nine… including that one formula Jane doodled behind a napkin._

‘-

“These doors are beyond your clearance level, Miss Lewis,” the disembodied voice of Stark Tower’s AI helpfully informed her.

“Thank you for your information, Jarvis,” Darcy replied wryly, “because I sure didn’t know that before you pointed out. Still, I’m not here to steal some Stark Industry secret, y’know? You do know that, right?”

There was a moment of silence as Jarvis looked up on what he knew of her.

“You have only accessed files relevant to Dr. Foster’s research.”

“I’ll accept that as a yes,” Darcy passed the coffee pot she was carrying back to her right hand.  “Come on, I’m just here with _coffee_ , because what else are neighbours for? You don’t really think I can harm Iron Man with coffee, do you? If they ask me why I haven’t given them any of my delicious coffee and I’ve been here for more than half a month! I’m blaming you for this. Pleeeease? Pretty Please? I’m getting cramps from this.”

She wiggled a bit on her feet, giving her best pouty face to the camera above the doors. She wasn’t sure whether it would work on non-human intelligence, but hey, no harm in trying, right?

If Jarvis could sigh, she would bet that he would already.

“Very well Miss Lewis. I have upgraded your clearance.”

“Whoooo! Thanks, man! You’re the best!” Darcy pumped her fist in the air, and sloshed her coffee a bit. _Oops._

The doors slid open and Darcy walked into the part of the labs that were Tony Stark and Bruce Banner’s shared area, and said two people were still there tonight. _Alright, Lewis, you can do this. They’re just your neighbours_. She tried to think of them of just people instead of heroes who could flatten anyone who wanted to attack Earth, but couldn’t quite manage it. Tony had to have a radar for sexiness somewhere in his brain, because the doors were noiseless. She hadn’t even taken as much as one step inside before he raised his head from his work. He lit up when he saw who’d entered.

“Oooh, it’s you again! Hello, sexy—”

“Finish that sentence and I’m not sharing this pot I made for you guys.” Darcy warned.

“—Goddess of Coffee?”

She nodded in approval. “Wise man.”

Banner had been farther off, more to his side than the door, but the commotion caught his attention. He looked even scruffier than Tony, if that was possible, but he was still good looking in a frumpy nerd way. Wait, no, he was _adorable_ , Darcy thought with an inward sigh, like the nerdy boyfriend she had to tackle in high school because he was so clueless. His warm brown eyes were wide and earnest and his smile was genuinely welcoming. _What is it with the Avengers and their looks?_ Was there something in the water around here? She was beginning to fear the standards she’d set for her nonexistent love life if she hung around these sort of people any longer.

“Tony, who came in this late at—ah, hello. I’m Bruce Banner and you are…?”

“Goddess of Coffee,” Tony answered.

 “Darcy Lewis, Jane Foster’s assistant,” she said with cheerful wave, biting down the nervousness. “I thought you science types would still be here burning the midnight oil, so I came bearing gifts.”

“Gimmeeeeee,”

Darcy dodged Tony’s attempts at her pot. Dr. Banner let out a tired sigh, not unlike that of a spent parent.

“Tony, leave the nice lady alone.”

“Hey, she was the one who brought the coffee for us.”

“But you’re not going to drink it straight from the pot, are you?” Darcy asked back. Tony pouted. _Must not be weak to his charms. Must not—_

Fortunately for her, Bruce gently retrieved the pot from her. “Let me place that somewhere more convenient. Would you like a cup too, Ms. Lewis?”

“Darcy’s fine, Doc. Yeah, I’d love a cup.”

“Hey, how come he gets the pot and I don’t?”

Darcy shrugged, not quite sure how it happened either. _Probably because Bruce Banner masters his politeness-fu?_ “Because he asked nicely?”

Banner had taken off to bring mugs for them all. Darcy wanted to help, but she wasn’t sure where everything was here, so she settled for observing the doctor as he opened cabinets and procured sugar—just making sure she remembered it for next time. Tony had been worryingly quiet, though. When she turned to him, she could see that the gears in his mind was working double time at her statement, and she wasn’t sure if she was supposed to be worried or excited. He lowered his eyelids and licked his lips in a flicker of movement Darcy couldn’t take her eyes off.

“I can be nice. How nice do you need me to be?”

_Whoa. Talk about the power of the Stark Charm_. He might have been older than her by more than a decade, but it only matured his appeal like nice vintage scotch. Fortunately the clack of tray on counter broke the spell before she got too distracted. If Dr. Banner rolled his eyes any harder, they’d be whirling on the floor.

“Tony, stop teasing the assistant.”

“She practically told me to be nice!”

She smiled. “You’re a sexy, sexy man Mr. Stark, but Pepper Potts is like, my personal idol and I’m not doing anything to get on her bad books.” Because Pepper Potts might have started out as a PA, and took an MBA, but she was a poli-sci major at the beginning and sometimes it showed in her company policies. Darcy took notes of her career.

And well, okay, Pepper Potts was hot _and_ classy. So what? Sue her for having eyes.

“If she agrees to a threesome, would you want to?” Tony asked back.

“Tony!”

The billionaire narrowly missed a swipe to the back of his head from Bruce, and for some reason they reminded her of two siblings roughhousing now and weren’t as unapproachable as before. Then again, all those things might only exist in her head.

“Sheesh, it’s all in good fun, Bruce! You should relax more.”

“Pepper would thank me when I save you from a sexual harassment suit.”

“It’s fine,” Darcy replied with a grin. “He’s not asking anything I won’t be asking either if I saw someone as hot as me. I mean, have you _seen_ these boobs? They have gravitational powers of their own.”

“Oh God, there’s two of him now.” Bruce groaned and covered his eyes with a hand.

Tony-frickin’-Stark managed to not stare at her boobs and still looked slightly impressed at the same time. Darcy considered their reaction as an achievement. She was going to the bros with Tony in time, she could tell. Bruce, on the other hand, shook his head with a hopeless sigh. She didn’t miss the slight quirk of his lips, though.

“If he gets insufferable, it would be on your head.”

“Duly noted.”

Bruce poured Tony his coffee and Darcy memorised Tony’s preference of two sugars with a dash of cinnamon. Bruce mixed his with some cream and he poured a cup for her too.

“I just thought I’d say hello properly to you guys, since Jane’s moving into the labs and I go where she goes. I didn’t think you were here in the first two weeks, and after that, well, we were busy.”

Tony raised his cup. “Yep, hello accepted. This is a really good cup, by the way.”

Bruce took a sip before nodding in agreement. “Yes, I don’t drink coffee that much, but it _is_ quite good.”

“Thanks. What got you guys staying late here?”

Tony almost said something before he closed his mouth again and turned a more discerning look at her, as if he’d only truly seen her then. _It was not his media face_ , that was what she was saying. It was how she knew that she wasn’t looking at his billionaire playboy persona here. She was facing Iron Man. It didn’t help that Bruce Banner seemed just as intrigued as he calmly sipped his cup of coffee. Alright, she knew he wouldn’t Hulk-out in the next minutes, but somehow it was just as freaky.

“I worked with Jane and we’ve gotten into the path of several world-destroying baddies now. Seriously, my clearance level isn’t going to be that low. I’m here, aren’t I?”

Wow, her voice was a lot calmer than her heartbeat is right now. _Score one for the Lewis Ability of Ultimate Bullshitting!_ Also, she owed Jarvis for this. _Hmm, what could he possibly want?_ She was sure they kept his servers air-conditioned optimally at all times, and it wasn’t as if he ate or wore clothes. Damn, it would be a challenge.

“She’s right,” Banner said, and she could feel her shoulders relaxing by the tiniest bit at his words.

“Well, what got _you_ away from the labs last week?” Tony asked.

“Who would want to stay at the office when you could go to the beach _and_ meet the Oncoming Storm?” Darcy asked, raising her eyebrows. Tony snorted into chuckles at her answer while Bruce only sent confused glances at the two of them.

“Aww, yeah! Please tell me you escaped with the screwdriver.” Tony said. She grinned wider. Tony Stark is a Whovian! She would totally put this up on twitter. The world deserves to know.

“Unfortunately not, but we’re working on it. You should check back after me and Jane had investigated the next space-time distortion for clues of his arrival.” She answered, just as flippant. Tony offered her a fistbump and _of course she accepted it_. She fistbumped with Tony I’m-cooler-than-you-know Stark, why would she say no to it?

“This is one of your geeky things, isn’t it?” Bruce stared at them askance, after it was clear that no more explanation was coming from either of them. Darcy gasped.

“I can’t believe you haven’t introduced him to it,” she said.

“Yeah, I can’t believe you haven’t watched Dr. Who. After all this shit is done, we’re going to remedy that, stat.”

“So, ’this shit’ is currently taking a lot of your time right now?” Darcy asked.

Tony was impressed while Bruce had a small smile on his face. They both had an ‘I know what you’re up to’ look, but Darcy knew how to stay cool as a cucumber as she waited with what she personally labelled as her gullible intern face. They humoured her anyway.

“There’s that outbreak in Denver that we’re trying to isolate. I haven’t finished figuring out the source of the disease enough to find a cure,” Dr. Banner said. Darcy winced. She heard enough from the news, and it did not sound pretty. From glimpses of TV she managed to snatch between keeping order in Jane’s database, she’d seen people in hazmat suits more than once.

“I thought they had it under control? The CDC was all over that one, aren’t they?” She asked.

“And they handed it to us,” Tony said. “Because it’s not strictly biological.”

Darcy’s throat felt dry. “What does that mean? Chemical weapons?”

Bruce shook his head. “Oh no, it wasn’t. There was a magical component to it. We just haven’t managed to isolate it yet,”

“Doesn’t sound much better,” Darcy muttered.

“It’s not,” Bruce agreed. “It doesn’t help that Dr. Strange is occupied on the west coast right now and couldn’t work full time on this one.”

They stewed in their own thoughts for a while before Darcy remembered that WIRED piece on Tony. Never let it be said that she didn’t check her potential employers.

“So, I thought you’re not a biologist?”

He shrugged. “Not really, but what could be so hard about culturing germs?”

Bruce rolled his eyes. “You say that, and the first time I let you in on Betty’s work with me, you grew completely different bacteria than the ones we’ve left on the petri dish.”

“It’s not my fault if they get lonely and wanted company,” Tony defended.

“So you gave them your STDs?”

Darcy choked on her drink. Tony raised his hands in the air and gazed heavenward. “It was that _one time_! And it wasn’t mine, it was—”

“I don’t want to know _whose_ it was. The other time ended up with _E. coli_. I’m not sure that’s a better result either. I don’t want to know where your hands have been back then,” Bruce cut in.

Darcy laughed between her occasional coughs.

She didn’t know that the calm Dr. Banner could sound so dry. The debate drifted a bit into the pros and cons of physical sciences and the bio sciences, but underneath it all, there was still a sense of mutual respect. It helped that they were both grinning nearing the end, and it became a series of recollections of minor slip-ups and screw-ups.

Tony eyed the bottom of his mug with a contemplative gaze.

“I’m not sure you can actually use ground coffee for divination. Plus, I filtered all that out,” Darcy said.

“Hmmm, maybe. What did you put into the coffee?”

Darcy’s eyebrows rose. “Well, _coffee?_ It certainly wasn’t tea that I was making.”

“I think we should stop drinking her coffee, even if it _is_ wonderful. Do you see how much blackmail material we’ve told her by now? Unprompted? I swear she puts something else in it.” Tony said. Bruce was merely amused.

“ _Our_ blackmail material? I think it’s just yours, Tony.”

Darcy was still not quite sure that she wasn’t dreaming. She was chatting with members of the Avengers like any normal lab neighbours and they get on _well_. Her mind hadn’t come down from cloud nine yet. She wasn’t even sure she could find her mind if asked.

She raised both her hands, “Dude, I’m not telling if you’re not.”

“So, in the interest of mutual debriefs, what did you and the doctor find out at the beach?”

She couldn’t help the snort that escaped at his words, and accepted Tony’s attempt at changing the subject. She told them from the beginning.

“Well, the first anomaly was actually after we were done with the whole Convergence stuff in England. You’re all up to date on what happened in that one, aren’t you? And so…”

‘-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: I'm leaving some sort of glossary here. Not exhaustive and not really required to get the story. It's just random bits of clarification for those who like details.
> 
> **_E. coli, Escherichia coli_:** This is the bacteria you test for if you want to find out whether a particular sample (water, food, etc) has fecal contamination. They’re mostly harmless except for a minority serotype (but the fecal matter is definitely not harmless). Like Bruce, I _absolutely don't want to know_ how Tony managed to contaminate that particular bacterial culture.


	3. III. Arrivals (More Questions than Answers)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Jane hears things she wishes she didn’t. Remember what I said about Darcy and poking? Yeah. She can’t help it. She still does that. All the time. Thor gets poked. Darcy pokes around things that aren’t technically her jurisdiction, but hey, who's keeping track? She thinks it's better to be paranoid than dead._

### III. Arrivals (More Questions than Answers)

The assistant trudged out of the swanky elevator to the 89th floor, dragging herself to Jane’s part of the lab floor on autopilot. It was Saturday, meaning she didn’t really have to unless Jane had new data to organise (and she stuck to half a day). But if she didn’t at least come around and check, she was almost afraid that Jane forgot to eat breakfast. _Again._ Darcy might not be the healthiest eaters, but she was sure there’s a limit to how many poptarts you can eat in a month before you poop in Technicolor.

“Jarvis, is the lab empty?” She asked out loud,

“I’m afraid not, Miss Lewis.”

Dammit. She was afraid for this. “Jane’s already in there, isn’t she?”

The doors slid open automatically and gave her a silent answer. Who else was tinkering with their equipment in early morning hours?

“Jane? At what asscrack of dawn did you even get here?” She asked.

Jane shook her head once in confusion before she realised who’d been calling her. She blinked.

“What? Oh, it’s just you, Darcy. I slept early thanks to you, so I could get here at six something.”

Darcy groaned. Sometimes she was sure there was improvement, but at other times, Jane’s obsession with her work was a lost cause.

“I thought you were going to spend some _gorram_ time with the big guy. You don’t see each other that often otherwise, do you?”

Jane had been too used to Darcy that at this point, she automatically filtered out anything her assistant was saying that she couldn’t make any sense of.

“Haven’t you heard? There’s that Assyrian exhibit touring museums that’s currently in San Francisco—”

“Where Dr. Strange currently is, because one of the stuff on display is an ancient artefact of unknown power and he’s sorta investigating it, amIrite? Or if they need him to actually hang out there, then the betting odds mean he’s making sure no one nefarious would get their hands on it.” Darcy finished.

Something had clicked in her head, and she wasn’t as sleepy as she had been moments before. The news she heard last night of a brown out somewhere on the west coast? That was probably connected to it too.

Jane furrowed her brows, causing delicate lines to form. “How did you know about that? I only heard about it this morning.”

Darcy waved it away. She had dropped the sandwiches on Jane’s desk and settled herself on the couch in the middle of the lab instead of getting ready to go back home and get more sleep. Her curiosity was piqued now and she couldn’t leave it alone.

“Just put two and two together from gossip. So, Thor’s there on bodyguard duty?” She asked.

“No, he got called there last evening because there was a break-in.”

Darcy sighed. “And whoever did it stole said artefact. Man, I could see that coming from a mile away.”

Really, she could. Keep up with the news on superheroes and their nemeses through classified channels and after a while patterns crop up on a large portion of those supervillains’ actions.

Jane nodded. “Yes—and there haven’t been any more updates since then.”

“I feel for you, Boss-lady. Your guy doesn’t really have a lot of downtime and now more problems hit him out of the blue and he has to take off again.”

“I know. Has he even had enough rest since the Anomaly Number Nine? What if he overworks himself? I don’t think SHIELD monitors for his health that carefully. Do they even know the baseline used to compare it? I should contact the SHIELD doctors and ask about it, just to be sure…”

Her words drifted away as she searched for a notepad and pen.

Darcy’s regrets about the Asgardian’s impromptu flight were more along the lines of Thor and Jane’s special couple time together being thwarted. Since Jane had demonstrated that she was definitely a special snowflake, _of course_ she would be worrying about Thor’s well being first above all else. She didn’t even mind her currently absentee boyfriend. _Beautiful_ and _kind…how on earth is she even real?_ If she was a lesser woman, she would’ve hated or envied Jane… or both. Come to think of it, it sadly explained why Jane barely had any female friends, other than having chosen a male-dominated field.

On second thoughts, if Darcy hadn’t been the one shopping for Erik and Jane, they probably would keep forgetting to do so until they were starving-hungry. _Also, Jane and Thor? You probably should have made that into a threesome of Science-Jane-Thor, considering how distracted by sciencing Jane could be. Oh well._ _Everyone balances out somehow_.

With that thought, Darcy settled into the couch to sit back for a while. She miscalculated just how sleepy she was and ended up falling back asleep there.

‘-

The sun was in her eyes, hanging all bright and pretty in the sky. That was the only reason she woke up. She raised her head gingerly and for the first time cursed the beautiful floor length windows that gave them a view of New York.

There was a pillow under her head and a blanket over her. She was touched that Jane actually remembered her assistant better than she could remember her own meals, _yet who the heck keeps pillows in their lab?_ She couldn’t help thinking that Jane would probably live in her lab if there was no one to drag her out of it. The couch they set up there was pretty comfy, so it wasn’t such a bad choice to have a nap in.

A quick glance at the clock on the wall assured her that it was only nine.

Jane might have loved the place, but she was damned if she was going to spend her down time there as well as her work hours when she could actually leave.

“Jane?”

“Mmmhmm?”

“What are you working on?”

“Crunching the latest data on Anomaly Nine. Thanks for all the work yesterday—I wasn’t even sure I took that napkin from the diner.” Jane said.

“I did,” Darcy replied. She stood up and stretched for a bit, trying to recall some yoga routines.

“Oh. Well, thanks anyway.”

“You’re welcome.”

 A tinkling of small bells caught her ear—Jane’s message ring tone. Said astrophysicist went around to her desk, patting assorted papers and printout for her phone before she found it on her chair.

She could see the moment Jane read the message. The creases on her forehead melted away, and pure joy lit her up. Darcy smirked as she walked to their mini kitchen corner to make coffee.

“So, is Thor coming back today?”

“Yes! The entrapment at the museum went on smoother than expected. He—”

Jane broke off, expression frozen on her face. She was scrolling through her messages at a higher speed than before, her eyes darting from one end to another quickly, far too quickly, and Darcy could feel a seed of unease growing at the pit of her stomach.

“What? What happened? No one’s hurt, are they?”

“No…”

Well, shouldn’t that be good news? From Jane’s expression, it would seem that she disagreed. There was something else still.

“Jane?”

“It’s not possible,” Jane muttered, more to herself than to anyone else. She ran a hand through her hair, occasionally even yanking them, as if trying to ascertain that she wasn’t dreaming.

“What’s not possible? _Janey, what’s wrong?_ ”

“The extremely elaborate trap they’ve been setting up all this time, monitored by Dr. Strange caught… Loki.”

The silence was only broken by the tinkle of spoon and the gentle bubbling of boiling water in the next few moments. Too many emotions chased each other endlessly on Jane’s face. Darcy wasn’t sure if what she said would make anything worse, but she was never one to back down from anything.

“Soooo… wasn’t he dead? As in, the self-sacrificing brand of dead? For which Thor cried a river of tears?”

Jane cringed, but Darcy ploughed on.

“Or does the word ‘dead’ mean differently in Asgard than earth?”

“Well, we _thought_ he was dead.”

Jane’s expression settled into one of annoyance, and even worse, a hint of anger. _Oh boy_ , Darcy mused. She had heard of the bare bones of the crap that came down on the Convergence, but Jane hadn’t told her all about the details. There was probably a long story there about screwed up godly family dynamics, and probably enough issues to serialise an updated Eddas biweekly for years (and since _when_ was any of those families _not_ screwed up? Did she forget what Zeus and other Greek gods love to do?). She certainly didn’t mind hearing it all now before the shit hits the fan.

She made the coffee the usual way Jane took it (pitch black, lots of cream and sugar) and one for herself (she was in the mood for mocha right then), and brought the mugs over.

“Wanna tell me about it?”

It was a sign that of something serious going on, because Jane didn’t even argue about work with her for that. 

 ‘-

It wasn’t that hard to find out what important and interesting stuff is happening in the Tower.

Exhibit one would be the tall and stately god of thunder that landed in the middle of their lab. Darcy noted with dismay that he had blown any light and unsecured piles of papers away and toppled the shredded waste paper basket. That wasn’t the first thing that Jane noticed, of course. What she saw was her boyfriend—she had leapt over her own desk in a rare display of dexterity and bounded over to him.

“Thor!”

“Jane, my love, I have missed you so.” He caught her in his arms and swung her around once. There was a heartbreaking vulnerability in his eyes, more so than usual, that she looked away to gave him privacy. Darcy chalked that up to the involvement of his wayward brother—for all she knew he might decide to break down right there. Jane had been gently stroking his back, murmuring what she guessed was sweet nothings and other encouragement. She let Jane support her boyfriend undisturbed.

_Alright, let’s leave the lovebirds alone_.

She went back to her desk, careful to keep the sound of her footsteps quiet, deciding that it was a good time as any to check up on the security cameras. After booting the PC up quickly and secured her headphone, she turned on her microphone and camera.

“Can I get visuals on the entrances, Jarvis?”

Feeds from eight cameras showed up on her two monitors. _Oooh, they’ve got high-def security cameras, pretty unusual_. She guessed Tony didn’t skimp on the important stuffs. No sound still, but that was to be expected for privacy concerns.

Her lips turned up on the corners unconsciously. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Miss Lewis,” Jarvis replied through her headphones.

She didn’t hack it, at least not in the conventional and technical sense. She couldn’t outmanoeuvre the AI even if she tried—not without ginormous processing power backing her up, and does she look like one of those sinister three letter agencies with a division of PhDs at their disposal? _No._ She’s only a part-time hacker, for goodness’s sakes, and only a few inches away from being a script kiddie herself. So no, she didn’t hack it. It was simply to Jarvis’ credit that he listened to her worries about Jane and Thor, and even the Avengers. This was just her looking after people she cared about.

“Thor isn’t taking this very well, is he?” She said out loud.

“The modulation of his voice is erratic and dissimilar to baseline levels,” Jarvis said. “His muscles are tense and his micro expressions demonstrated the same degree of depressed happiness.”

She nodded in understanding. “He sounded and looked sad to you too?”

“Yes, very much so.”

“Thanks. I did think he was kinda subdued.”

On screen, the parade of agents from one of the basement entrances continues. There was a short and tense encounter for a while, probably about jurisdiction issues, but in all likelihood Thor wanted his little brother with him in Stark Tower than in some unnamed, middle-of-nowhere SHIELD facility. Of course, she couldn’t imagine SHIELD agreeing easily to it and there was probably enough material there to go on and on and on for _hours_. A few minutes later, she could see Tony and Bruce there and she was optimistic they could smooth the kinks out of the arrangement. Well, at least she was optimistic that Dr. Banner could—she didn’t want to imagine what Tony was saying to put those weird expressions in the face of the agent talking to him.

There was no one that looked like Thor, someone she could take for his brother, but she did saw Dr. Strange escorting a large box etched with arcane scribbling _that was floating behind him_. For one brief second she had the idea that it was a vampire and his gigantic coffin, before she rubbed her forehead and willed _that_ image away.

_O…kay._ When Jane said entrapment, she thought it was in the general sense, _not_ that there was a real, honest-to-God physical trap involved.

“Has… has anyone talked with Thor?” She asked Jarvis. “I’ve got to ask this at least once because I’m his friend.”

“Dr. Foster is currently talking with him, Miss Lewis.”

Darcy rolled her eyes and smiled a little. She didn’t imagine Jarvis’ slightly-drier-than-usual tone.

“I know. What I meant was, a professional? Jane cares about him and I know that more than anyone else, but I don’t think she’d be able to see, much less help, all of Thor’s problems. Someone like a psychologist.”

Dr. Strange and his entourage were entering a large, highly secured elevator. Contrary to her expectations, they went down instead of up. _Huh. What was up with that?_

“Do you consider him to be unstable?”

“ _No_. At least, I don’t think so. It’s just that the wound from Loki’s death had only begun to heal over and suddenly it’s ripped raw again. They also have a thousand years of brotherhood between each other before things went to hell in a hand basket for both of them.”

Speaking of which, had Thor had any down time lately? She was sure he hadn’t, because she would know—Jane would know, and as far as she knew, they’d both jumped back to being elbow-deep in work right after the whole Evil Elf from Elfland came. She couldn’t help her voice rising slightly as she spoke.

“Of _course_ he had issues. Just because people once used to consider him a Norse god meant that he’s invincible.”

Was it odd that she could feel the silence between them as understanding? Was she projecting too much to the AI?

 “I will arrange an appointment for Thor,” Jarvis finally said.

“You’re not going to let anyone access Thor’s files, right? Not even Tony?” She asked.

There was an affronted note in his voice when he replied. “Certainly not, Miss Lewis. There is a confidentiality agreement between therapist and patient. You will not even be aware of it unless Thor wishes it.”

A relieved breath escaped her. “Thank you, Jarvis. I’ve told you that you’re my BFF, right?”

“This is the third time you’ve said that Miss Lewis. I appreciate it.” Now he sounded amused.

She really needed to start on that letter to her brother. On the other hand, her current best friends were her boss and an AI, and coming after that, probably her boss’ boyfriend. How sad was her life, really?

But first, Thor and Jane seemed to have calmed down a bit and were a bit more lovey-dovey now instead of being all over each other for various reasons. So Darcy stood up from her chair and slowly made her way back to the two of them.

“Hiya big guy. How are you?” Darcy said with a wave.

“Lady Darcy! I am well, I suppose.” He gave her a brave smile. She stepped forward and hugged him.

“I’m sorry to hear about your brother, Thor. It couldn’t be easy.”

Thor heaved a sigh. “Thank you for your concern. Yes, it hadn’t been easy.”

“Speaking of your trip, what’s the package you guys carried home?”

“Darcy!” Jane was aghast.

“Err, what, too soon? I shouldn’t mention about The Box for, like, _ever_?”

Thor sighed, lost in thoughts for a moment. She couldn’t help but remember the heroes of medieval knightly ballads because he was so noble and _melancholy_. He didn’t look like that just because of her, right? What was she, some kidnapping elf queen? Darcy fidgeted uncomfortably while Jane gently pulled him to sit down on the couch.

The assistant sat across the table from him and Thor gave her his full attention. “It is alright, Jane. Lady Darcy deserves to know too. That box is what Dr. Strange calls a stasis box.”

_Ah. No, I don’t know what the hell that means_.

“Time flows very, very slowly inside it. We took Loki by surprise, as he had not expected that such force should come out to greet him. This it is how we are able to capture him.”

Well, that was pretty straightforward. Darcy tilted her head to the side a little as she continued thinking. “Okay. So he’s not dead, then?”

“Darcy!”

She raised both of her hands awkwardly. “Sorry! I just thought that Thor would’ve thought that was a good thing and be happy about it!”

Thor great shoulders rise and fall with a deep exhale. For a moment Darcy thought she knew how the little pig with the straw house worried.

“It’s alright, Jane. I can speak of him. It does not bother me as much as it used to.”

“Jane’s right, you don’t have to tell me that if you don’t want to—”

“It is not a burden, Lady Darcy. It is good to know that he is alive, but I cannot be selfish and think only of my own happiness. I wonder now about many things. Why did he not send us news that he was alive? What sort of plans did he have for the artefact Dr. Strange had given all his vigilance? It displeases me to think ill of him, but I can find no better answer to these questions.”

“O…kay. You don’t want to have to think of all the things he could screw up because he’s your little brother. I get that. How did it all… no, wrong question. What sort of person is he?”

“We used to be so close,” Thor said, sadly. Jane was giving Darcy the evil eye from beside Thor.

“Errr, are you sure you want to tell me about all this? Because I don’t want to do it if you’re only going to get sad,” Darcy said. _In other words, Jane is going to kill me_.

“It truly is not a problem. It is better to recall the memories of joy and brotherhood than remember the bitter end, is it not?”

“Yeah, can’t argue against good memories,” Darcy said. “What happened when the whole Convergence shit went down? I heard he sacrificed himself to save you? That had to be a good guy thing, right? What could he get from it? Nothing but _you_ , alive. There’s still the brother you know, right there.”

Darcy wasn’t even sure what she was saying, as she was randomly basing it on her good relationship with her only sibling. She’d hit a nerve, because when Thor opened his mouth, nothing came out. He closed it again a moment later and he swallowed several times. She pretended she didn’t see a shine over Thor’s eyes.

Jane sighed. Apparently she had given up on interfering altogether.

“Get yourself comfortable, Darcy. This would be a while.”

‘-

The art of being anywhere you wanted to be, is basically the art at not being underfoot and making yourself useful and indispensable. Working with Jane on something that was definitely not her field and wasn’t even her hobby (hacking was still her hobby), Darcy had a lot of practise on that. This was an important skill, as she had noted countless times before that some people will always wonder just how 'essential’ Jane’s assistant was to her work, and if they could replace her with people who had ‘real’ credentials ( _SHIELD agents, I’m looking at you_ ).

She was under no illusions that anyone interfering would have Jane’s best interest in mind. Darcy might not be able to tell Jane when she made mistakes in her formulas and  if anyone asked her what one of the fundamental coefficients of the universe was she might’ve just gone with 42, _but she damn well wouldn’t betray Jane for anything_.

Darcy also wasn’t a poli-sci major for shits and giggles. If there was one useful thing she got from her studies and the metric ton of essays she’d written, it was that power dynamics matter. No offence to Stark, he was a great guy, sure, but when her background readings of him lead to that mess and blow up with Obadiah Stane? Previous CEO of Stark Industries? He might be deposed and out of the picture now, but a man wouldn’t stay in power for years without building a power base for himself. She had no doubt that he’d have a network of alliances and subordinates all over the company. Stark couldn’t uproot everyone who’d had close working relationship with Stane (people whose loyalty was maybe aligned to him, to a lesser or greater degree) without tearing the company into two or more pieces.

And the projects Stane had authorised? Well, she’d live after finding out about them. It would just be more seasonings for her nightmares.

(It doesn’t matter in the long run. She already has nightmares from way before, anyway. She’d live).

When she gets a bad one, she usually reminded herself all the things Stark Industries doesn’t _do_ anymore before she could get back to sleep. It sucked, but it was worth it to make sure no one was running off with Jane’s work for the purpose of some nefarious, world-dominating plans.

So _of course_ she couldn’t help but be leery of anyone applying to be a research assistant with Jane, even if they came from Stark Industries, and even worse if they were totally new people. Interns were fine though—they never got near enough to anything too critical on Jane’s rainbow bridge project. Jane was completely onboard with Darcy’s suspicion too. Most people didn’t even know that Darcy’s opinion on accepting new people into their project held almost as much weight to Jane as her own opinion.

The astrophysicist appreciated what she did. She wasn’t happy about it, but she appreciated it, which Darcy considered as more important.

“ _Thanks for telling me all that, really. You know I’m thankful, right?_ ” _Jane had said after one of their conversations. This one involved a lot of Cherry Garcias, which as far as Darcy could say about it, was practically a requirement, and some margarita, which were just a nice bonus._

_“Yup, sure do.”  She paused; there was something unsettled on Jane’s expression. “You’re thinking about something else, aren’t you? Spill it. Come on, Janey, spill eeeeeet. I always find out about it in the end, anyway.”_

_Jane held her head with both of her hands, the smile on her face not reaching her eyes._

_“It’s just that every time I finished talking about these stuffs with you,” she made wild gestures with her hands, as if they’d been talking about things more alien to her than the inhabitants of an extrasolar planet—which for Jane, that might as well be true, “I always feel like I’m getting more and more paranoid.”_

_“Hey, it’s not paranoia if they’re actually out to get you,” Darcy answered. She mulled over a few other things in her head._

_“Besides, did you even read what Snowden leaked? There was that intercepting thing they could do to sent packages—and think about this carefully, Jane, it actually happened to participants in an international scientific conference. Forget a warrant, much less any explanation. That was some strongly creepy stuff. With the stuffs you do, Janey, probably have a bull’s-eye painted right on your beautiful brainiac head.”_

_She groaned. “I didn’t really need to hear that, Darcy!”_

_The brunette mock saluted. “Sorry Boss-lady. I’ll be sure to keep us out of the line of fire without telling you too much about what we’re avoiding and how I did it, then.”_

_Darcy managed to gain one of Jane’s genuine smiles. It was watery and wavered a bit at the edges, but it was_ something _._

_“Yes. Please do.”_

_“Cool.”_

Jane’s Secret Keeper; that was what Darcy actually was. Fortunately for her, no one ever took their time to scrutinise her too much.

All this consideration was why one Darcy Lewis, Research Assistant, was walking purposefully towards floor B6 (aka, the basement 6 floors below ground floor). She couldn’t stand still not knowing, not when the answer only cost her a casual stroll down the basement. In her arms were various drinks from the nearest Starbucks.

If she had to cajole, beg and plead with Jarvis to tell her about the beverage preferences of half the staff downstairs, well, she was sure that the AI wasn’t going to tell anyone. She guessed the other half, and made extras just to be safe (had she expressed her thanks on how a corporate expense card for coffee is a magnificent idea? Well, it _is_. Stark is an unparalleled _genius_ ). A swipe of her card at the humongous, reinforced door, and the door slid open with barely a whisper. _Thank you Jarvis_ , she silently mouthed.

There were more people in black suits and/or cool leather field armour she had seen SHIELD’s combat agents wear before, but even to her untrained eye, there were definitely more people in the room than strictly necessary and the tension was palpable in the air.

Some people might carry Stark Industries’ tag, but others openly wore their SHIELD badge. _Oh, right,_ she thought. _It’s the jurisdiction issues, again_.

Darcy cleared her throat.

“Everyone, here’s your coffee and snack. Just read the labels on each cup to find out what’s in it. Let me unload this on an empty table…?”

It was surprising how quick people made way for her when it turned out that she carried the beverage of the gods. An empty table had appeared out of nowhere where previously all the surfaces she could see were covered by files and equipment. She even received assistance in trying to unstack the trays. Darcy took her drink (dark chocolate, because she didn’t need a caffeine fix right now) along with a few others she had set aside for just that purpose. Then, she strategically moved out of the way as the crowd descended on the drinks with the intense focus of alligators on a downed wildebeest. _Yikes! Never get between agents and their coffee._

Tony Stark was nowhere to be seen. This isn’t much of a surprise because, eh, he’s _Tony Stark_. He probably had a thousand different things he could be doing at any given time. Dr. Banner was there, standing right between an imposing and unimpressed Dr. Strange and one unreadable Coulson. All three were calm, having for all the world what looked like a completely civilised conversation, but for some reason they were in the middle of a six feet no-man’s-land zone in which no other people even tried passing through. It was creepy, and more than a little bit scary.

_Yeah, no. Just… no. I’m not going to go on a suicide coffee run by walking in their direction. No way._

Dr. Banner was just going to have to miss his tea.

Behind them was a cell of some high-grade glass-like material and what she thought looked like a force field. There were several cells, actually, but only one had anything inside it. The centrepiece was that tall box she’d seen on camera. It was more imposing and a whole lot of creepy in real life than in pictures. She couldn’t take her eyes away from the writings covering it. The lines weren’t smooth and curvy, they were harsh and straight. Because of that, they also looked ancient to her eyes. It was as if they came from a time where writing had to be carved down on something instead of painted on, and it was a lot easier carving straight lines than curves. Considering the material of the box that looked like _granite_ , it would make sense.

“It does look impressive, doesn’t it?”

She almost jumped at that voice and was proud that she was only startled. “Dr. Banner! You surprised me. Before I forget this, here’s your chai.”

“Bruce, please. Just Bruce.”

She handed him one of the cups she had been carrying, and he said his thanks for it.

“So, what is that box?” She asked.

He took a sip of his drink, his other hand comfortably stuffed into his pocket.

“Some Mesopotamian artefact. I could be wrong, you know, archaeology isn’t my field at all, but that’s what Strange says it was.”

“And we’re keeping it for the museum? What, it turned out to be dangerous?” She asked.

There was a slight smile on his face, as if for some private joke. “You can say that again.”

Darcy waited, and when no more explanation was forthcoming, she spoke up.

“Does it have anything to do with Thor’s brother?”

Dr. Banner sent her a side glance. “How did you find out about that?”

She rolled her eyes. “Jane’s assistant, remember? Also, the god of thunder is upstairs in a reunion with his girlfriend and he’s my friend too. I’m not _that_ friendly with both of them to want to stay around while they’re… reunioning, though.”

He laughed at that. “I forgot about that.”

She shrugged. “It’s kinda not nice to rub banging a godly golden boyfriend to a girl who’s been having a dry spell too. I mean, have you seen his naked ass? Rock hard, man. I’ve never really gone for the football player type, but I could appreciate a nice booty, y’know?”

That ended up with Dr. Banner coughing, his face slightly coloured. “Ah, okay.”

A beat passed. Darcy’s lips quirked on the corners.

“TMI?”

He nodded fervently. “TMI. I don’t need to imagine Dr. Foster and Thor that way.”

A large grin broke on Darcy’s face, but she said nothing. For a while, they drank their respective beverages in peace.

“So, that box is actually holding Loki inside, then?” She asked.

“We try not to publicise that,” Bruce answered. She nodded. That was a clear enough answer for her. “It’s only temporary anyway. It’s not designed to last.We’ll relocate him as soon as we’re settled.”

“Mmmhmmm,” she nodded.

 “I don’t think it’s very nice to put people in boxes, though,” Darcy said, after a moment. “It’s like, something _worse_ than blindness and deafness. You can’t feel anything there. The sensory deprivation is _cruel_. I don’t know about Norse gods, but humans hallucinate stuff when they get stuffed in a box-of-no-sensations like that.”

There was unexpected understanding in his eyes, and he made no judgment over her opinion. For a moment she could see him as the young man he probably was, and the man he definitely still is; he studied many things because he was too kind to let the world be.

“It would be if it was for extended periods. This artefact, though, preserves whatever is inside it. It changes the energy state of matter right on the atomic level and somehow manages to do it evenly too. In this way, it is unlike the kind of cell damage that usually occurs when ice crystals form as water-based organisms are frozen. That is the sort of setback to cryogenics technology that we’re still facing right now, the damage suffered by cellular walls.”

He collected his breath. “In the case of _this_ artefact, however, the subject is successfully placed into a harmless extended hibernation. He wouldn’t realise how much time had passed since he was first put in.”

Wow. She could actually understand a large amount of that. Dr. Banner must have been a popular lecturer, back when he still taught classes.

“We don’t need to come up with some anti-ice with this ice box, eh?” She asked.

“That’s certainly one conclusion we could take.”

“Uh, thanks for the explanation?”

He smiled, and it was a brilliant one that she wished he could show more often—he’d have people standing in line to date him if he did. “It’s no problem at all.”

She could actually see that it really wasn’t a bother to him. Bruce Banner was just that earnest about teaching people.

_So, what did I found out today?_

She found out that the ominous box from one of the dawn civilisations held Thor’s brother. She made an internal snort. _Yeah, right. That wasn’t creepy at all._

Not too long afterwards, Bruce got pulled into a conversation with Dr. Strange, and Darcy easily slipped away among the other staff to make her way out of the hall. There’s still some good news to be had out of all of this. Considering the background of said mystery box and its occupant, Jane would never need to study anything about it, which meant that she didn’t need to go anywhere near it either. She wouldn’t see it again if she willingly avoided this floor. It wasn’t as if she lacked enough excitement in her life.

_This is plenty good news, right?_

Besides, it wasn’t as if Thor’s wayward brother would ever want to have anything to do with them. Considering the family issues, she imagined that he’d rather avoid Thor than anything (there was that whole dead and then not-dead issue that Thor didn’t know about).

It was completely not her problem.

Of course, Darcy should’ve remembered that there are such things about counting your chicks before they hatch.

 ‘-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know that story Darcy mentioned about mail from a scientific conference being intercepted? And had 'bonus' payload added? That actually happened (for those interested in the details, search for Cancun, 2009, NSA, "The Equation Group"). Truth is stranger than fiction.
> 
> I've written all the way until chapter 17 but for the life of me I can't stop revising. So...yeah, I have an issue with that. Nasty, nasty OCD perfectionism. (Even now I'm still out for any grammar/editing issues I might've missed). I usually like to be ahead by around five chapters, though, to make sure I've laid enough groundwork and foreshadowing for any new plot twists.
> 
> EDIT: Adding a bit more to the Completely Unnecessary Glossary:
> 
> **_Cryogenics_ :** The science of preserving living creatures in low temperatures. One of the ways humans are trying to beat back death (the idea was that hopefully, sometime in the far future, they have the technology to revive frozen people and cure diseases we have no cure for now). One of the major setbacks is exactly as Bruce said; ice crystals tend to rupture cell walls.


	4. IV. Unexpected Guests (Xenodochy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Darcy gets a mysterious ‘guest’. They play a game. Also, a tea party happens._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a technical note, I opened this story through my mobile browser (Android, Chrome) and it ate all my italics. This is just a warning for anyone who might want to do that - I often use italics for inner thoughts and short flashback scenes, so it's going to screw that up.
> 
> A key component of my take on Loki is the trickster archetype. So...

### IV. Unexpected Guests (Xenodochy)

The following days proceeded at a more sedate pace.

For Darcy, this translates as normal-people’s working hours, because Thor would not let his lady love run herself down, not when he had Darcy as a reliable alarm on all things Jane. Come the end of the working day and if there was no Avengers’ meeting he had to go to, Thor would be hanging out at the lab. The astrophysicist might grumble a bit for all the interference, but Darcy wasn’t blind to the way her whole being light up whenever Thor came around, so Darcy’s efforts were all for a good cause.

Today, it was quiet at their labs, not another soul in sight but her, and Darcy considered it a welcome respite. She and Thor had finally worn Jane down with their pleading after more than ten days, and the scientist _finally_ agreed to take a few days off.

Now, she was relaxing on her desk and downloading a lot of movies into her external hard drive. Who knows when Jane was going to drag her to the middle of nowhere again, chasing anomalies? It was best if she stockpiled her entertainment now. Besides, the internet speed in the lab was _divine_. Waiting while browsing and listening to her iPod wasn’t such a bad pastime.

Then, she went off to their mini-kitchen to make some coffee.

She should’ve noticed that something was not quite right the moment she pulled both mugs out, but she had gotten into a nice groove humming and dancing to Katy Perry. Why should she pay attention to the boring mugs? She had carefully measured the coffee, turned the machine on, made sure that the settings are correct, and settled down to wait. She felt bored and a little bit restless not long after that, so Darcy stood up and started rummaging the cupboards to find where the other pot was. It was one that she had bought just in case the people from the labs next door visited and wanted tea.

You know, just to make sure she didn’t misplace it.

 It didn’t take long for the coffee to be done, the aroma of roasted beans filling the air. She took a nice, deep breath at that. Darcy poured some for herself, and added some sugar and cream.

She glimpsed something in the direction of the couch, and stared back for a few more seconds just to make sure she wasn’t mistaken.

There was someone else there, a stranger. She was damn sure she didn’t open the door for anyone. She didn’t even hear it open!

She still wasn’t sure it wasn’t an illusion of some sort, though. He was pale, with long musician’s fingers and cheekbones that was patently unfair for a guy to have. There was a certain grace in his pose, even if he was just sitting down, reading a book on one hand and what looked like a child’s toy ball in his other. His clothes, with his green tunic and leather boots, seemed to be something straight out of Lord of the Rings, and she still had to convince herself she wasn’t imagining him.

“No, I am not your imagination.”

She gasped. He closed the leather bound book he had been reading and raised his head. Green eyes met hers, and she could see the light of curiosity and a spark of playfulness in them.

“No, I don’t bother reading people’s minds, either. The skill is overrated. Your face, however, is woefully _transparent_.”

“Hey! Who are you to pass judgement on people?!” _Though he says it with a very nice voice,_ Darcy noted, personally. His accent was close to British and his voice could probably hypnotise her if he cared enough to put the effort. He threw the book in the air and it was swallowed by a thin green line. _Must’ve been nice to have a portable pocket dimension like that_ , she thought idly.

He smirked.  “Would you rather I lied?”

“You could actually introduce yourself to people instead of stalk them. It makes for a friendlier greeting,” she answered.

“I wasn’t stalking you.”

“You could’ve been staring at me without me knowing, I say that counts as stalking. Not to mention the whole issue of a stranger entering without knocking. I’m also pretty sure the door is locked for most people” She sighed, and stared back at the two mugs she had taken out without realising, one filled with coffee, and the other one empty. Her grandmother had once told her to always trust her instincts, and apparently, her subconscious knew he was nearby before she herself did.

“I am not most people,” he answered carelessly. Power and privilege rolled into one in his answer. Even if it was just as annoying as the entitled jocks trying to pick her up, he certainly had more dramatic intensity than them.

She rolled her eyes at that. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Hold your horses, Macbeth.”

She didn’t know who he was and didn’t know what he could do. _Oh, he could juggle, apparently_ , she thought, with a tinge of hysteria, _let’s call Cirque du Soleil!_ At one point, five toy balls had appeared and he was idly tossing them between one hand and the other, appearing not to pay her that much attention. _Well, of course he didn’t. Since when are you such a great threat to him, Darce_?

The only upside for her was his apparent politeness.

 _Oh, what the fuck. Why not? Any port in a storm, right? Any angle you can work with_.

“So, what would you like to have? Tea or coffee?” She asked. To herself, her voice was rather uncanny in its calmness.

He gave her an odd look. Four of the balls disappeared and he caught the last one. She ignored it. She’d gotten worse stares for her weirdness in high school.

“I also have hot chocolate, if you’d rather drink that.”

“You’re offering me beverages?”

“Yep. My mother raised me properly and that includes being a good host. Wait, you _know_ what coffee and tea tastes like, right? Or hot chocolate? Do they have all of that in Middle Earth?”

Now it was his turn to roll his eyes. _Huh, lookit that. Whaddya know, they have eye rolling where he came from too._

“I’m not from Midgard.”

She blew a strand of hair from her face. “Like I didn’t figure it out before. It’s a figure of speech, Legolas. Well? Do you want me to make all three of them?”

She pulled more mugs down from the cupboard. He looked intrigued. The words he had just said had only registered with her then. _Midgard. He said Midgard. There’s a good chance he’s an Asgardian_. His tone was milder now and not as pointed as it initially had been.

“I’m familiar with tea.”

She snorted. There was no way that she didn’t take his words as a challenge. She might not become a die-hard tea drinker from her run in England, but she grew familiar enough with the various tastes. She had her own favourites too, even if they didn’t beat coffee.

“There’s a _lot_ of tea. In fact, I’ve got a lot of tea too, here. My favourite is English Breakfast, but many people fancier than me seem to enjoy Earl Grey—I could never understand that, but we have some of it all the same. Chamomile is nice to relax with any time of the day. Got a favourite?”

She was babbling. She only hoped he didn’t notice it much.

“I am not sure any of my favourites would be available.”

“Shame on that, eh?” Her reply was sarcastic.

He didn’t notice. There was a dash of intrigue in his eyes as he watched her move, the curiosity of a lone wolf approaching a bustling human campfire. She didn’t know if it was better than his careless disregard, or more dangerous.

“It is bearable,” he replied with a shrug.

 _You know who’s the other Asgardian_ known _to be in Stark Tower, right? Thor’s little brother? The spare heir that went spare?_

She gripped the pot and turned around to fill it with water from the sink. If she kept moving, the barely noticeable tremors her hands are developing wouldn’t be visible (and maybe she would forget it too). She placed it on the stove. It shouldn’t take too long to boil that.

When she turned around again, he was much closer than the couch, on the other end of the countertop, idly picking up Bunsen burners and observing them.

“Shit! You could’ve given me a heart attack! Warn a girl when you move around, will you? I might crash into you the next time you apparate around.”

He only looked amused. “I am adept at dodging. You may continue to treat your kitchen as if I am not in it.”

Even with all her efforts not to, she couldn’t help rolling her eyes. _With an ego that big, it’s surprising that both of us fit in this room_.

“Don’t say I didn’t tell you,” she murmured.

He was curating an assortment of kitchen and lab utensils with uncommon care, rolling them curiously in his hands. The direct sunlight by the windows painted him as sublime as a Vermeer portrait. She had flashbacks of that one semester art history course she’d taken. He must’ve felt her staring because he looked up and grinned, balancing the same tension between compelling gaze and ambiguous smile captured in many timeless paintings. Darcy wanted very much to slap her forehead several times to regain sanity. _No crushing on the crazy, Darcy! Not until you know more of his motives_.

She poured him some coffee and added one and a half sugars. It was better to err on the side of less sweet than too sweet.

“Here’s the simplest way to make coffee. It’s Sumatran, so it should be good unadulterated.”

He picked it up from the countertop, sniffing it a little before drinking. He didn’t even need to sip it carefully.

“It is… passable coffee.”

Her voice rose in pitch. “What? Passable _?_ Only _passable_?”

His eyes were bright with silent laughter. She should be offended that she was apparently his source of entertainment, but she had that Oscar Wilde quote as a bookmark and knew she should actually count her blessings in this case. _Make people laugh when you’re telling the truth, or they’ll kill you_.

He corrected himself. “My apologies. It is delicious for a home brewed coffee.”

It was kinda sad how that mollified her. Sure, it was petty, but she didn’t care. She picked the pot up from the stove. “Oh. Jeez, thanks. So, what do you want to try now, tea or hot chocolate?”

“Why not both?”

She sighed. Of _course_ he wanted both.

“ _Of course_ Your Highness, let me get that done for you,” she replied, sarcastically. Still, she moved anyway. This time, he was staring at her more openly. She avoided meeting his intense gaze.

“You know who I am.”

“What? No. I don’t know who the hell you are. There’s that matter of the introduction you keep skipping, remember?” No one had actually told her who he was, and that was true. There were some doubt on his face, but she ignored it. “It doesn’t mean you don’t have that annoying _high_ and _mighty_ attitude.”

He looked offended at that, but she ignored it. She hadn’t said anything wasn’t that wasn’t true.

Darcy was quickly steeping tea and making hot chocolate at the same time they were talking. _Whoever said that part time work doesn’t leave you with relevant life skills is an idiot_.

This also helped her from having to face him directly.

“Do you always treat all strangers like this?” He asked, his curiosity was blatant.

“Do you _always_ break into people’s houses?”

“Have you thought of asking for my name outright?”

“Why should I _want_ a name not freely given?” She snapped.

Hells yeah, she knew her fairy tales. That’s gotta be relevant here, right? When she’s trying to outfox a Trickster God? _Bitch please._ He seemed to take issue with her answer until some internal realisation occurred. His grin grew wider, and she could feel a tremor of _something_ at the base of her spine. _So much for not antagonising the Renfair roleplayer_ , _Darce_ , she thought with an inward groan. _Great job there_.

“Wouldn’t you want to know why I’m here?” He asked instead.

She shrugged. “Why should _I_ even care?”

“Aren’t you concerned for your safety?” He took another step towards her. Two more steps would take him right in front of her _face_. He was tall, at least as tall as Thor and moved with the grace of a fencer. The most frightening thing, in Darcy’s opinion, was how _not scared_ she was. This was a game. She didn’t know how she did it, but she had pulled him into a game and he was all too eager to play.

In her heart of hearts, she knew could do this.

“Want to try the tea now?” Darcy asked.

She gave him a saccharine smile, and savoured the confused look he gave her. It was cute. Well, she was allowed to call him cute, wasn’t she? People could look all sort of things, regardless of personality.

Before he could say anything, she pushed the tea she had been making to him.

His gaze fell to the mug in his hands and she could see his fine eyelashes. He took his time in savouring the drink, and she couldn’t help but be touched by the appreciation. Her tea wasn’t world class, but one wouldn’t know it from the way he was drinking. There was something precious in how he gazed at her from over his mug, as if she had just presented him with a treasure.

Darcy took an unconscious step back and tried to keep the distance between them.

“No thanks for the lady?” she kept her tone teasing. A different part of her just went ballistic over it, as in, _why the hell am I flirting with the unknown alien??_

“But it wouldn’t be fair, would it, when to reply is to admit losing?”

“Losing what, _Your Highness_?” She snarked, a hand on her waist, hips cocked to one side to display her curves at their best. On a saner assessment, _maybe_ she shouldn’t have done that. She could see him swallow very slowly at the movement, his eyes growing black. Yet she couldn’t deny that she enjoyed feeling the thrill of being able to affect him.

_Whoo, power trip._

“Wouldn’t you want to know?” He asked.

He took another step towards her, his voice low and dangerous and made her feel deliciously warm.

“Should I?” She asked.

His answering grin was all teeth and no give.

For all his words, he did not cut off her escape. He was not trying to intimidate; he was just there, standing, present and waiting. His scent reminded her of the older heart of a hyperborean forest and something unabashedly male. She could almost feel his curiosity about what she was going to do about it. That was what scared her most; what would she do about it?

“Was the tea good?” She asked. She pretended she didn’t hear her question turn breathy at the end.

“What’s your name?” He set the tea aside, on the counter.

If she thought he had been staring at her before, she was wrong. Those were only interested glances. _This_ was staring. _This_ was currently making her heart catch in her throat and wish to twist his dark hair in her hand and _pull_. _Bad, bad Darcy_.

 “What’s _your_ name?” she countered.

“Why not give me your name?”

“Why should I go first?” She was not going to think on the increased risk she kept taking on because she _can’t. Stop. Poking. Him_. Nope. Not thinking.

“What would you do, if you find out your guest was Loki of Asgard?”

Darcy tried not to show any reaction at that. _Shit! I was right! I hate it when I’m right_. Too many questions ran through her head, Starting with ‘why was he here?’ and ending up with ‘I thought he was locked up _in the basement??_ She could have a break down there and then, but that would certainly be _not fun_.

“Were you regretting ever offering your hospitality?” He asked.

She shrugged, even if she knew he’d read what little tension was in her body. If asked what she was doing, she had no idea, but fortunately her body knew what to do already. Darcy retrieved the cup of hot chocolate for him and Loki accepted it with the same grace as he had before, complete with deep nod when he raised the mug in his hands. He drank it with the same reverence and stared at her as if she was the cupbearer of the gods. When he returned the mug to her, his hands slid against hers, eloquent in their touch.

She could feel her throat drying up and her objections evaporating one by one. It was only then that she realised she had actually answered him through her deeds. _No, she had no regret_.

“What do you think of Darcy Lewis of Earth?” She said.

“Would you allow me to intrude upon your hearth again?” He replied. She could almost hear the weight of ages in the ritualistic choice of words. Their game had turned serious from who knows what point.

 _Well, it’s not as if you even cared, isn’t it?_ An inner voice snarked at her.

“Can’t I hear your answer first?” Darcy said.

“May I kiss you?” He asked.

Her cheeks heated up. Darcy was pretty sure that her answer was too damned obvious, but it would seem that he _was_ a gentleman. He hadn’t reacted except for the smallest tilt of his lips, and she scrambled to find something that would slow her from gravitating towards him.

“Can you tell me that you’re not here to hurt me or my friends?”

His hand paused halfway from touching her face. His expression was an odd combination of vexed and impressed. “Was there ever any question, whose answer was so obvious?”

She huffed in annoyance. Well, it wasn’t obvious to _her_. Plus, that wasn’t exactly an answer.

“Why else would you be caught, then?” Darcy blurted out. His eyes narrowed, yet she stood her ground. If she reached out, she’d be able to touch his tunic, and those delectable looking collarbones.

“And here you claimed not to know who I am?”

“Is a wild guess as good as an answer?” she shot back. She received a slow nod of acceptance for her not-quite reply.

“What is your final answer, Darcy Lewis?”

The way he said her name made it seemed she always held his attention when he said it. Long fingers hovered gently, oh-so gently over her lips; the ghost of a caress had her parting her lips before she knew.

“ _Would you harm me or any of mine_?” She asked again. Words she wasn’t even aware she knew fell from deep within her. They were answers gained from the treasure box of precious tales, read a long time ago, by a storytelling father long dead.

Darcy took a deep breath and realised it was a mistake. He smelled too interesting, certainly something she wanted to sink in.

“Would any civilised man discard so callously the debts of hospitality?”

His tone was rhetorical.

This wasn’t love, she wasn’t a naïve teenager anymore to think that, but it was _something_. They certainly weren’t going to be mere strangers and acquaintances with this. She wasn’t going to lose to him first if she could help it, though. She grinned.

“Can _I_ kiss you? Like, _now_ , and not next year? Because seriously, what’s holding _you_ up?”

He laughed. It was a gorgeous sound even if rusty around the edges. He sounded he hadn’t had much practice with laughing recently. It lightened her and saddened her at once. Perhaps that _was_ the best way to describe him, as a beautiful tragedy.

That was what she was going to say if anyone asked why she stepped forward, reached for his collar and placed her lips over his. ( _Why the hell did he have to be so damned tall?_ )

His left hand found her waist and anchored her solidly in the here and now, fingers trailing delicate sparks around her neck and she lost sight of anything else but them. He pulled her deeper into the kiss, breasts pressed against solid chest. She exhaled with a full body shudder, warmed already from the teasing wanderings to her backside, and hadn’t even done anything really raunchy yet. _That_ , she thought, _needed to be remedied_.

Darcy sucked his bottom lip and used the opportunity to open her mouth and swallow his sighs. The layers of clothes grew too staid for the heat under her skin as his hands roved everywhere. She paid that back by squeezing his ass with appreciation, pulling their cores together and their kisses turned wet and filthy. Now there was an edge to the thirst that had her clutching him for support. Her fingers were frustrated that there was no easy way to remove his tunic and yanked it to the side instead, so she could taste his shoulders. It drew a sharp gasp from him. Her ass finally bumped to a countertop and she had nothing to complain about, her legs opening wider to accommodate him.

Something clanked to her side. It was a really inconvenient moment to remember all the mugs she left behind her, but remember it she did. And she was kissing the daylights out of a space alien _in her office_ , _at daylight_. Even if no one could fire her but Jane (and she had her doubts on that), she wasn’t going to screw her professional image that badly.

Darcy cursed, and forced herself to pull away from his very capable hands.

“Is there any way we can take this up to my room?” She asked between pants.

“Why? Is that an invitation, Miss Lewis? Why not stay here?” His voice was like honey to her ears. It felt good to know that he was as breathless as she was. _Focus! Don’t let the pretty man distract you!_

“Darcy,” she corrected him. There was a flash of glee in his eyes, but she put a stop on that quickly. “And that game we’re playing is _over_ the moment we start to make out. I’m _so_ not _losing_ or anything.”

“My, aren’t you a sore loser.”

“Whatevs. _I’m_ not keeping count of that. What I do keep count of, is the clothes we _still_ have on, for some reason.” For a moment, she was sure that her clothes would burn on the spot from the heat he was staring at her with. She could count this as a date, right? She offered him coffee and he took it, along with two other drinks she also made. They had even had more conversation with each other than she did on some of her college one-night-stands.

She never knew what he was about to say, because in the next second he had taken her arm, there was a swirl of colours and major disorientation for her and suddenly she was on the couch. Loki was sitting on the other end, not too distant, but none too close either.

The lab doors slid open and four of the Avengers came rushing in fully armed and loaded. The looks they received ranged from disbelief to wonder, from Hawkeye to Thor. Loki drank his hot chocolate as if he had been doing that all along. Even his long hair was smoothed back perfectly once more, she thought with envy. She probably looked like she had a bed head.

Darcy gulped. The Black Widow had one killer stone cold _look_. She wouldn’t wish to face Natasha Romanova anywhere, not even for the last dessert in a buffet. The brunette waved at them awkwardly. They couldn’t hear her heartbeat, right? It was still thumping like a racehorse and she could feel it pounding in her ribcage.

“Errr, hi? What would you guys be having?” She asked.

“The hot chocolate is exceptional,” Loki quipped. “I’d recommend that.”

“Brother! How… have you inconvenienced Lady Darcy?” Thor was the first to step forward. Hawkeye _still_ had his arrow nocked, and it was giving Darcy the heebie-jeebies.

Loki rolled his eyes. “Does she look inconvenienced to you, _Thor_?”

Darcy could see the minute disappointment that Thor felt when his brother pointedly did not acknowledge their familial connection. _So… godly family dramas, I almost forgot._ She sighed.

 “Loki, step away from her,” the Black Widow ordered.

He grinned and moved closer to Darcy instead. “Why should I?”

Darcy was damned if she’d voluntarily stay in the middle of a Mexican standoff, as the _fucking hostage chick_. That was just too insulting.

“Could you guys put the weapons away? The harmless assistant is feeling _so_ threatened here, _in her own office_.”

“Darcy…” Thor looked uncertain of what to say. 

“We’re fine, don’t worry. He hasn’t been doing anything other than trying out all the stuffs I made and being the occasional smartass.” Darcy answered, staring all of them firmly in the eyes, hoping to convince them that no, she wasn’t in any immediate danger.

Tony Stark was giving her a weird look, as if he wasn’t sure how to go about suggesting a drug test. The assistant huffed. “Was it so hard to believe?”

“The coffee’s quite good too,” Loki continued, as if nothing worrying had happened.

“Ha! I drank her coffee _first_.” Tony cut in with almost childish glee. He expertly ignored the looks his teammates were giving him. “What? It’s true. She makes a mean coffee.”

Stark stepped forward and the tension melted away as he did that. His suit folded away from him. With only his bracers on now, he wasn’t as intimidating.

“Anyway, why are you having a tea party here without inviting us? It’s _my_ tower. I reserve the right to be invited to all parties here.” Tony declared.

“I wasn’t even aware I was about to hold one,” Darcy sighed and picked up her mug. It was a good thing that Loki had moved her coffee to the table as well, _and wow, how did he managed to keep it warm all this time? It must be nice to have magic_. “Not until Mr. Tall, Dark and Snarky here ambushed me.”

Some people tensed, and Darcy smacked her own forehead. Wrong choice of words. _Did you or did you not forget that they’d been enemies not so long ago?_

Loki seemed unaffected. “I was merely reading.”

The book he had been reading before was on the table. She hadn’t noticed.

Darcy snorted. “Yeah, and I bet you were invisible before that. _Of course_ I was surprised.”

The Widow placed her hand on the Hawk’s forearms and he relaxed his draw. “He can’t leave the building with his powers suppressed by the cuffs. Strange had said he’d specifically warded the place for such contingency.”

Darcy followed the redhead’s glance, and she noticed that the discreet dun metal bracelets a little higher from Loki’s wrists were probably handcuffs, or something. She hadn’t seen it properly before because of his long sleeves. She suspected he also hid them from her on purpose.

Thor was the first to take a seat in front of her. Tony took his right and everyone else soon followed suit, all of them sitting counter-clockwise from Thor. Natasha Romanova sat between Clint Barton and Tony Stark.

“We were concerned when the alarm rang from the lower levels and the security system detected increased levels of magic here,” the Black Widow said.

Darcy’s eyebrows rose. “You can detect _magic?_ ”

“Sure can,” Tony’s grin was fifty percent smug and a hundred percent insufferable.

“Yeah, after Strange gave you pointers how,” Barton blandly informed her. The scowl that slipped into the billionaire’s face was amusing.

“I had the blueprints for it _already_ since I’ve got enough data from several magical attacks. He only made _adjustments_.”

Hawkeye shrugged. “Whatever makes you sleep easier at night, Tony.”

“Jane was worried for you,” Thor said, as Stark and the archer got caught up in their own argument. Darcy was hit with an uncomfortable amount of embarrassment—yeah, because she had _so_ been thinking of Jane when she was playing tonsil hockey.

“I appreciate that. Tell her she had nothing to worry about, though, your brother’s okay.”

“ _Miss Lewis_ ,” the dark-haired Norse god next to her raised his voice slightly. She could see Thor tensing his fists. She had to hold back the urge to roll her eyes again.

“Well, tell her that _Loki’s_ pretty okay,” she said. Darcy stood up to pre-empt the two brothers’ opinions colliding in full. She also wanted to avoid putting herself in the spotlight again, because she could see that Natasha was eyeing her speculatively.

“Soooo, what do you guys want to drink? I know Tony’s but I don’t think I know any of yours? Thor? Clint? Ms. Romanova?”

“You can call me Natasha, Darcy,” The Black Widow added.

“Err, o…kay? Uh, cool, I mean. Cool.”

Darcy cringed inwardly at having to ever call her Natasha. That felt a bit like the cat trying to be bros with a tiger.

In the end, this was how Darcy Lewis held the first tea party for Loki and the Avengers.

‘-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hospitality traditions is a pretty ancient thing that go waay back in many cultures. If there's one thing I regret disappearing from urbanised and modern societies, it's that sacred bond between host and guest . No credit goes to me on the game as it's certainly not my invention. I half-forgot where I got it from.
> 
> If all goes well, see you on the same channel, next week. :D
> 
> EDIT: _The Weird and Random Glossary_ strikes again:
> 
> The full Oscar Wilde quote Darcy refers goes like this: “ _If you want to tell people the truth, make them laugh, otherwise they'll kill you._ ”


	5. V. Strangers for Tea (Lost and Found)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The Avengers. Loki. Darcy. One table. A chat on plagues. Tony swans his way into talks. Loki being a little shit. Loki has Issues. Also, tact? What is tact? Darcy doesn’t have ‘em. There is a conversation about death._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy reading to everyone! Still can't believe the support I get for this story—to all the people who'd commented, kudos'ed and bookmarked this fic, _thank you_.
> 
> My take on Darcy gets pretty distinct in this chapter. If the characterisation doesn't work for you at this point, it probably won't ever work for this story (and you might as well cut your losses here).

### V. Strangers for Tea (Lost and Found)

Of course, it was wishful thinking to expect that it would end well. The odd détente held by the power of Darcy’s hostessing skills evaporated at the times when even the awkward conversation trailed away. Loki _had_ been a prisoner and in theory he was still one right now. He was emphatically not interested in being forced back to his boring cell in the basement, though (“It’s not the box, is it? Because that’s inhumane,” Darcy had snapped, surprising the people around her. She couldn’t read Loki’s eyes when he met hers for the emotions in them were ever-changing and quicksilver. “No, it’s not the ‘box’” He made air quotes like a hipster and she couldn’t help her snorts of laughter).

She couldn’t let them drag him away before they actually tell her what on earth his crime is. This was obviously not about his attempt at New York. Besides, hadn’t he gotten his just desserts for that in Asgard? Thor went on about it for a while. _There’d also been, like, three more major attempts at New York by other villains after that and a smattering of minor ones in between and I haven’t heard about any charges to all those other perps either_.

“We need more information about the plague,” Natasha had stated.

“You mortals die all the time. What’s different about this one?” Loki leaned back on the couch, completely bored. The easy smile that was usually part of Tony’s public mask was absent now.

“Because it has a magical aspect, Rudolph. We’ve been informed that a ceremonial cup you tried to grab last week has the ability to create _more_ plague. In fact, it was made for that purpose—you know, to blackmail an unruly populace into submission? ‘Kneel unless you all want me to call Pestilence upon you?’ That sort of shit. They have great crowd control skills back then—we just thought that you might’ve found it _useful_.”

“That information is classified,” Clint said casually, more of an FYI than any attempt to enforce it. Tony shrugged.

“Who’re you worried for? Her?” He gave a vague wave in Darcy’s direction. “Apparently she hangs out with Reindeer Games now and her boss is dating Rain Man, I’m sure she’d find out about it sooner or later.”

Darcy clasped her fingers together, a different sort of chill sinking into her bones. Her attention had drifted back to the dark-haired Asgardian sitting next to her before she knew it.

“Plagues are not my style,” Loki answered. Gone was the lightness in his voice. “If you had asked me that the first time around instead of moronically questioning me about why I want the chalice in a hundred different ways, I would’ve given you that answer days ago.”

“Ha! I knew I should’ve been the one questioning him. Who did SHIELD send on his case?” Tony asked.

“I can assure you that it wasn’t me either,” Natasha answered. “Else we’d have an actual answer by now.”

“You could tell yourself that, but it does not make it any closer to the truth,” Loki said. The smirk on his face was a clear challenge.

“The plague was not yours?” The Black Widow asked. Darcy wasn’t sure if it was supposed to be a question or a statement, because she was more concerned with watching even his slightest twitch than hear Loki’s answer. He merely looked bored.

“Do I _really_ have to repeat myself?” Loki replied.

Whatever it was that Natasha was looking for, she seemed to have found it because she didn’t say anything else.

“So why _did_ you take that cup?” It was Darcy’s turn to ask.

The sorcerer shrugged, holding her gaze easily. “I have my reasons. There are a myriad ways that the cup can be used, not necessarily to abet a plague.”

“And what is that?” Barton asked.

Loki ‘s smile was a cipher. “I don’t spill personal details on a first date. You’d have to get me dinner first.”

Barton’s visage turned closer to granite than before.

Darcy did not know how Loki acted as if he hadn’t known how Thor’s gaze returned to him again and again, sometimes with a question in his eyes and oftentimes with the weight of centuries’ worth of memories. Tony rubbed his brows.

“So we’re not any closer to finding out the perpetrators of the disease? _Damn_. And here I thought we’ve finally caught a break.”

Loki smirked. “As much as I’m sure you’d love to place the blame for all your miseries on my feet, I’m afraid I have to disappoint you. I have nothing to do with the mess you were dealing with now.”

“You could be lying,” Hawkeye pointed out.

He nodded thoughtfully. “Why, yes, I _could_. I could also be telling you nothing but the truth. _Unfortunately_ you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference at all, would you? Some of us just are sadly lacking in useful talents.”

 _Ouch, burn…_ His innocent smile was so perfect that it couldn’t be real.

She could see Thor taking a deep breath while Black Widow was oh-so-casually stretching the muscles of her hands and arms, making ominous cracking sounds with her joints (Darcy was obviously trying not to cringe). The Asgardian next to her was conveniently more interested in his hot chocolate right now.

“Are you sure you don’t want to ‘borrow’ the nice cup to brew a plague or two?” Tony asked.

“Regardless of what your target was going to use it for, that’s not the most optimal use of the cup.” The Asgardian replied. He didn’t miss the changes in their expression whether restrained or not and an amused smirk grew on his face. “Why so surprised? I could see the trap was not meant for me from the look in your faces when I arrived, especially when none of you are raging at me about it. Was I wrong?”

His last sentence was more of a challenge than question.

“And you know about the best use for the cup _how_?”

“Does it matter? It’s not as if you could actually confirm anything I say, could you? You wouldn’t trust any answer I provide.” The tilt of his eyebrow was inexplicably mocking.

“Well, I’m just curious that way,” Tony replied. “Humour me. You might just be surprised at what we know.”

Darcy ignored Loki’s general insufferable aura, along with the annoyed glances people in general was shooting at him as Tony and Natasha continued to get things moving with additional questions on the ancient cup. Loki actually gave a surprising amount of non-cryptic answer for such a slitherer-outerer. The answer was nested in snide retorts more often than not along with rhetorical questions about the competence of said cup’s guardians, yes, but there _was_ information there. Whenever Hawkeye’s expression turned even more stone-like than before, Darcy interrupted the snark before they got out of hand. Surprisingly, that earned her an amused smile from Natasha, though the best she could do at that time was froze like a deer in the headlights.

Halfway through the impromptu _tea party_ , she noticed that Loki just couldn’t stop riling people one way or the other. Darcy supposed that if he had to get his kicks from somewhere, it was certainly far better through verbal snipes and jabs than going on a rampage. She could even see Tony being less tense the further the conversation went—out of all of them, he certainly enjoyed giving snark for snark most.

Thor had been quiet most of the time, lost in his own thoughts more often than not. In a particular lull of the conversation, he spoke up.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Thor asked. His tone was plaintive and everyone else paused to listen.

Loki raised an eyebrow. “Tell you what?”

“Why hadn’t you informed anyone that you are yet living, Brother? Why did you fake your death?”

Darcy could see the exact muscle twitch in Loki’s temple that happened when Thor used the b-word, could see his jaws clenching. The two of them hit each other’s buttons so well _and they didn’t even know it_. The pattern was visible to her in all its messy glory. She felt compelled to head it off before they escalated into yet another argument and potential headache.

“Whoa, back up a bit, Thor. Why did you say that he faked his death?”

Thor and Loki broke off their intense face down. “Well, he is alive, is he not? I’ve told you the whole tale of his…demise before.”

“Yeah, but are you sure you saw him die? Maybe it was a mistake?”

Thor’s answer was curt. “It was not.”

She was beginning to get a clearer picture of what _probably_ happened. Probably.

“So, let me recap… He’d been heavily wounded and probably near death. He somehow survives it after you went away and he never thought to inform you of it?” Darcy asked. She already knew the answer to that, but she just wanted to make sure everyone was on the same page.

“If we had not captured him, I would never have known,” Thor replied, still subdued.

Darcy narrowed her eyes at the other Asgardian. “Dude, that’s not nice.”

He made the most elegant shrug she had seen.

“I’ve never claimed to be nice.”

She sighed. “Right. _Jerkass_. Thanks for reminding me of that one. Thor, don’t think about it, your brother’s just a jerkass—”

She could feel Loki tensing next to her.

“—the more you take this disappointment personally, the more satisfied he’d be, so just let it go. Just accept that he’s still mad at you, and it was all part of that. He’s mad at you.” Darcy finished.

It was not that hard to see the anger Loki had kept under the surface. He might be able to switch his manners on and off easily, but that much rage was never completely subsumed. It was the sort of bitter disappointment one could only feel towards people who they’d trusted completely at one point or another in their lives. One does not get that angry towards strangers. It was reserved for lovers and family members.

(Do not ask Darcy about her stepdads. She would still very much like to break their collarbones).

When Loki finally spoke up, his tone was diplomatic enough to lead a UN meeting.

“Miss Lewis, please do not treat me as an extension of someone else rather than my own person.”

She wasn’t stupid enough to not realise that it wasn’t exactly a request. “Duly noted, Loki.”

Darcy did not know about the complete list of grievances they had against each other, but she _did_ know that the pain in Loki’s cold eyes was real. It was as real as the hurt in Thor’s eyes with every one of his rejection too and that there was no simple way of faulting one party or the other here. She knew that; she accepted and embraced life’s complexity with open arms (why did you think she chose political science?)

“You are still angry at me?” Thor asked, not quite believing.

“Don’t heed her words, Thor. She’s spouting more senseless drivel.”

“You’ve been grinding your teeth the moment Thor was talking to you.” Darcy noted.

 _Yep, there it is again_. Loki was giving Darcy a look that generally meant ‘shut up’ and she decided to creatively interpret as ‘you’re spot on, keep going’.

“You know, I know a good family therapist. There were stars with the whole family-rivalry issues going on and it was screwing with their ability to get anything done—” Tony began in his confidential tone, which meant that the whole room could hear him as opposed to the whole _auditorium_. Darcy let out a bark of morbid laughter before she snuffed it out with strangled squeak, her cheeks ruddy with held breath.

Thor and Loki stared at Tony with either embarassed consternation or a politely murderous smile.

Unexpectedly, it was Hawkeye who saved the day.

“Shut up, Tony.”

“Hey, I’m the one thinking for the Team here. Y’know, like Cap always said, Sulkeye?”

Natasha was diplomatically silent, but she did stand up after another searching look at everyone involved and decide to withdraw from the increasingly personal conversation. She nudged a reluctant Hawkeye through some subtle signal they had (and no one else noticed). Her left arm was contributing to Tony’s Stark patently ungraceful exit.

“Hey, watch the hands, lady! If you’ve told me earlier that you want to cop a feel, I’d gladly make some time for you in my schedule.”

An elegant snort followed. “Shut up, Stark.”

“There are other, more _effective_ ways of ensuring that I shut up,” Tony answered as the three of them trailed away. He put in too much sleaze into his tone that even Darcy couldn’t take him seriously and snorted instead.

“I’m sure there are.” Natasha said dryly. “I know a hundred ways that the CIA knows and at least another hundred the CIA _doesn’t_.”

The freezing undertone in her voice would shrivel the balls of any sane man. There were muttered complaints after that, but nothing else was said until the three Avengers exited the lab. Thor was back to staring with forlorn hope in his eyes while Loki acted as if they were perfect strangers who happened to share a table in a full café.

“But what more do you want, Brother? What else do I have to do?” Thor asked.

Darcy had to give Thor points for dogged determination ( _plus ten to Gryffindor for efforts!_ ), even if she was going to deduct it again for lack of creativity ( _now_ _take minus thirty for going in the wrong direction!_ ).

“It’s _always_ about you, isn’t it?” Loki’s tone was as light as a papercut. Both Darcy and Thor winced.

Darcy pretended she didn’t notice the iron grip he suddenly held her wrist in. She was sure Loki was a second away from giving insult.

“Don’t think he’s prepared to talk to you about it, though. He’d just get even angrier. I can’t tell you why—he’s the only one who can give you the details. I don’t think it’s for now, though.” She said. She tried to pry Loki’s hand away from hers, and managed it with a lot of effort. She was also sure that she could only do that because he allowed her.

“I’m sorry big guy, but the best suggestion I have for your mutual peace right now is just to walk away. Talk again when you’re both calmer.”

She was about to ask him whether he’d tried talking to a therapist yet, but it was a question for another time. She wasn’t going to give Loki any more ammunition to hurt Thor. The blond was at lost for words. Darcy had to look away because she couldn’t bear to see the crushing disappointment in his eyes. In contrast, Loki’s expression might as well be carved in ice.

“I just…”

“I have nothing to say to you, Thor.” Loki bit out. “She is unexpectedly correct on that.”

The Thunder God stood up, his shoulders slumped. The smile he gave to Darcy was barely there. “I am glad that you are in good health, Lady Darcy.”

“So am I, Thor. Take care of yourself, okay? Remind Jane to eat properly.”

Darcy hugged him. She ignored the cold glare she could feel at the back of her head. Thor was still _her friend_ ; she wasn’t going to bail on him just because Loki hated him.

“I will. Farewell.”

She waved. “Bye.”

 Thor walked out, and as the doors closed behind him, Darcy was alone once more with Loki.

“You seem friendly with him.” His voice was neutral, _too_ neutral. She couldn’t even begin to guess why he said that. She turned around, not sure about what she’d see on his face.

“Well, yeah. He’s my friend, like Jane is.”

He was staring at her as if she was an interesting conundrum one he would dearly like to take apart. It was unsettling. He hadn’t blinked, much less _move_ in the next silent minute, while she was distracted by the way the ends of his hair curled above his neck. Darcy shook herself out of it not long after that, but not before she saw him smirk. He had to know what she was doing.

 _Oh God, this is awkward_. What do you say to a guy you’ve been making out some time ago before you stepped in right in the middle of the bad blood between him and his brother?

“What would you like for lunch?” Darcy blurted out without thinking.

Her answer seemed to be: _take him out for lunch!_ She stifled the urge to headdesk.

Surprise rose in his face, and there was no trace of his previous thoughts. It made him look younger. She wished she could capture the moment but had no camera on hand, so Darcy simply rushed forward before he could say anything that would break the momentary peace.

“Wait. Let me get all the list of all the restaurants that deliver here and we can choose to get some food. Why do I keep forgetting that? This is _New York_. We can get _anything_.”

‘-

She ended up ordering sushi (because, who doesn’t like sushi?), but just in case, she ordered pizza too. Darcy was about to ask him whether he needed steak because she knew about Thor’s metabolism and his love for meat and protein, but it only earned her one sniff and the beginnings of a rant on Thor’s eating habits. She headed it off by shoving the menus of a Hungarian and Thai restaurant in his hands and she scouted the lab for more. Of course, she also ordered some ice cream to be delivered after all the food. Can’t forget the ice cream.

Darcy had never been so full just watching someone else eat. Make no mistake, Loki had impeccable table manners, but the speed in which he cleaned the tables had to be seen to be believed—it wasn’t to Thor’s scale (she began to doubt that _anyone_ was on Thor’s scale, except maybe Volstagg), but his limits was simply inhuman. For one who purported to disdain earth, he sure could identify many of the ingredients in the dishes. She had yet asked him a question he couldn’t answer.

Darcy was piling up all the cartons and packages when she found that Loki hadn’t moved at all. She frowned for a moment.

“Loki, could you help clean up? Please?”

He waved his hand and in a wave of green everything was piled up neatly in the trash can. Any utensils they’ve used had somehow ended up in the kitchen again, clean. _Oh, wow. A girl could get used to this_.

“You were saying?”

“Thank you, o great sorcerer. Your might is sorely appreciated,” Darcy made an exaggerated bow before dropping herself back on the couch. She ignored his self-satisfied smile. He’d earned it with that trick.

Darcy leaned back on the couch and closed her eye in post-meal bliss. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do now, but she was going to take a well-deserved break for a moment or two. All those food need to be allowed to be digested. It was just common sense.

“You’re still here,” Loki said, apropos of nothing. She snorted.

“Well, _duh_. This is my office here. Well, it’s Jane’s and mine, but it’s the same thing.”

“You drove… Thor away and you claim to be his friend.” He stated again. She opened her eyes. Darcy could hear what he didn’t say; _and I’m still here_.

“You need the space from him,” she said. If they were going to take turns pointing out the obvious, she could do that too.

“I don’t _need_ space—”

“Don’t tell me you’d feel _absolutely fine_ if I called Thor back here, like, right this second,” Darcy said, sitting back up and getting right into his space. She eased back up before he could react. “See? You don’t. It’s _fine_. It’s like, I need space from the sun, man, or else I get fried, and so do all other living things on earth. Or, take the nearest black hole; I _absolutely_ need space from ‘em, but you don’t see me saying I don’t need to.”

He was staring at her oddly. Since he was still calm, she figured she could go on.

“Or take that bitch Rita Saunders who had an affair with my ex-boyfriend. I don’t, like, _need_ space from her, but I’d be taking her front teeth out if I have to see her parading with him in front of me, yanno? So in a sense, I need space from her too, at least to keep being my cool self.” The ex-boyfriend she had kicked out from her apartment before, so the urge to punch him wasn’t as strong.

That was clear, right? She was pretty sure she made a good example out of it, if the amused smile he was pretending not to have was any clue.

“I was wondering,” Loki pondered.

“Yeah?”

“I’m quite sure that the word ‘like’ isn’t a preposition.”

She flipped him the bird. “Oh screw you, Mr. Grammar Nazi.”

“I’m sure that can be arranged.”

And just like that, her train of thoughts halted, crashed and burned. She glared at him but her brain fritzed into a blue screen of death of its own with his last repartee; she had no words to give. _Why oh why did he have to be so pretty?_ She gritted her teeth and stood up, feeling his eyes on her as she moved. She needed some distance from him.

“ _Not_ in the lab.”

Speaking of which, wasn’t there some new data entry stuff she needed to do, now that they don’t have interns once more? Darcy wandered off to the boxes beside Jane’s desk, where the most recent and unprocessed data were. One glance around the room told her that Loki had picked up Jane’s last attempt at writing a manual for her machines, provided for the poor interns—she had hoped to no avail that Jane would replace some of the older machines with more off-the-shelf hardware instead of making them. But _no_ , they were held by Jane’s sheer cussedness and duct tape. Jane probably wouldn’t do anything about it until one of them _finally_ fell apart.

She wasn’t sure the current manual was much clearer than the previous ones, but Loki seemed to be able to read it page by page with no problem.

“So,” she started, “why did you come here? And I’ve wanted to ask since I saw it, wasn’t your mojo sealed away with the bracelets?”

“Cantrips are trivial,” he said, from halfway across the room, moving with such fluid confidence that for all she knew, he was completely unconcerned about said magical shackles.

“Alright. So it’s a piece of cake for you. But still, why this lab?” Darcy lifted the pile of printouts and hefted it to her desk. There were many additional data pencilled in, and these were the ones she needed to enter. “I mean, I’m sure Stark Tower has all sorts of rec room. I bet there’d be an indoor swimming pool too, knowing Tony.”

“It was the roll of a die.”

She could feel her eyebrows climbing up to her hairline. Darcy scoffed. “What? You _randomly_ ended up here? You know what? I don’t buy that.”

He smirked. “It’s none of my concern whether you do or not.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, don’t give me that bull. You went here for a purpose. This place has too many connections to you. First, Thor hangs around here often enough, and this is Jane’s lab. That’s _two_ people you’ve got connections to out of the entire Stark Tower, and you ended up in a place they spent a lot of time in. Whatever the odds are for that being random, I can’t see it without a _microscope_. That’s why I don’t think this is a coincidence.”

Darcy could see that he was going to give her one of his non-answers again, so she crossed her arms in front of her chest and glared him down.

“Well?”

“I’m not required to give you an answer.”

“I know. I just thought you’ve been brought up better, because I’ve been such a _decent host_ and all, but feel free to tell me you want to stop being my guest any time. I’d just go back to my apartment and sleep in that case and you can leave the lab,” Darcy said. She was getting _really_ tired of being given the run around and was not above emotional blackmail. Her mother certainly taught her well.

Loki looked up from the manual. It only took one blink from her before he was standing just a little over three feet away. His body language was commanding and distant. She had to hold back from bristling and riling him up further by asking why he hadn’t worn his armour yet to intimidate the paltry mortal.

“Why are you so determined to get an explanation from me, Miss Lewis? Isn’t it more convenient to you if you just take what you have now and let it be? You’re not guaranteed to be happy with what you find if you dig further.”

She refused to be intimidated. “I’ve never settled for anything less than the truth.”

“What do you want to hear? That you have a monster dining on your table?”

“You’re not—”

“Does it give you a sense of control, of _safety_ to play nice with the monster? You’ve just ensured that you won’t stand in the path of destruction the next time he goes crazy again. Good job on that, by the way.” Loki hadn’t raised his voice, but certain coldness had seeped in. “Perhaps next time, you’ll just get front row seats to chaos. Watch the world burn.”

Darcy clamped her mouth shut. His eyes were as brittle as glass and his expression a bleak emptiness. He took one step after another to close their distance and she took one back, only to bump into her own desk. Flecks of blue were visible in his irises like chips of ice. Loki’s lean form radiated power, one under the fine control of its master.

She took a sharp breath, and the crisp scent of freshly-snowed forest hit her senses, accompanied by hints of leather. Her heartbeat quietly started to go up and she felt slightly lightheaded.

“Do you feel safe, now, Miss Lewis?” His tone was dulcet, and she knew she was being mocked.

“You’re not—a monster,” she breathed out. She took a small sideways shuffle because it was hard to think with him being so close. “It’s not the power to destroy that makes someone a monster or not.”

He chuckled. It sounded harsh, unlike the laughter she had heard before.

“Still you proceed to fool yourself with illusions of safety.”

“You’re _not_ a _monster_ ,” she snapped, because all this adrenaline was making her jittery and _irritable_ even when she knew how bad of an idea it was to annoy him. “You’re a pain in the ass, a _jerk_ , but I don’t think you’re a monster. Why do you say that, anyway? You keep using that word, but I don’t think it means what you think it means.”

She did another crab shuffle away from him, not caring how ungainly it looked. Darcy was all too aware that her impulse would be to kiss him if they ended up frustrating each other some more. It wouldn’t have been very productive if she climbed all over him instead of talking. Somehow, she ended up leaning on the couch.

Loki was frowning at her. Probably because things didn’t go the way he thought it would. What did he want her to do, really? Run screaming from the room? Talk about being tacky.

“Okay,” she breathed out, steadying herself. “Okay. So, why do you say you’re a monster?”

He stared at her in that condescending way of his that said he knew of lemmings who could ask more intelligent questions than her. She sighed. What is it with people questioning her head?

“Let’s start with the dead people. Does it have anything with all the people you killed in New York?”

The question hit him like a knee to the gut. He half-flinched before controlling the reaction away. To be honest, Darcy felt like facepalming too. Many people had said that she had no tact, she _knew_ that. She just considered it to be something else altogether, namely her dislike for hiding the truth and beating around the bush. She never quite understood why people edge around them. _Better rip off the band-aid really quickly than prolong the misery, right? The truth shall set you free?_

“Tell me if I spoke too far. I’m really bad at knowing other people’s limits,” Darcy added quickly.

He was incredulous. “You’ve known about the dead and you still had to ask me?”

His emotions weren’t as tightly controlled as before and they jumped all over the place and Darcy didn’t want to trigger a panic response. She moved slowly and made sure that her hands were always open in front of her all the time.

“So, you’ve killed people,” her voice was soft as she placed the idea out in the open. “So, you’re a killer.”

“Yes! How much more obvious do I need to be before you realise the danger you’re in?” He snapped. “Are you that stupid?”

That stung. She’d been underestimated too often just because they saw her boobs and heard her mouth off. Even if she was used to it by now, it still scraped her something raw.

“Don’t call me _stupid_ ,” she hissed, drawing a deep breath. She tried not to be distracted—she could always get even later.

“I fail to see what else you could be,” he spoke under his breath, seemingly not for her ears.

“Someone who doesn’t _hide_ from the truth. Because I could say much _less_ about you _Mr. Denial_.” she snapped, before the anger melted away from her as easily as it had come.

Darcy had pieced together Thor and Loki’s history from the Thunder God and from Jane. She didn’t say out loud about how she had her suspicions that Thor’s brother may not be mentally sound when New York happened. It did not absolve blame, no, but it places his fault in context and could be a clue on the first step to take to get better. Yet she knew instinctively that he wouldn’t hear it now. No, Loki was currently determined to flog himself.

“So… you killed people. What now? What are you going to do about it?” She said.

Her expression had returned to what it was before; still calm, still waiting. She let him stare back, let him see that she was just here to _listen_. He was…

He was flummoxed.

Darcy closed her eyes to push back the images of the torn buildings and the casualty list. She needed to stay in the here and now—Loki needed her to talk him through this. She wished she could talk to her friend Sarah about it because one of _her_ double majors was psychology, not just the odd class that Darcy took and their late night chats. Yet in the end, it was Darcy who was here instead of anyone else.

She just had to suck it up and get over it. _Story of my life_.

“Even if you die now, _those people will stay dead_. They won’t _ever_ smell the flowers or see the blue sky again. What could you do, then, for those lives you’ve taken? What step would you take from this moment on?” There was a reason why she didn’t think the death penalty served a bigger purpose in society. It was just convenience or habit that people stuck to.

“We cannot change the past, but we _can_ change the future.” Darcy finished.

“And you forgive me, just like that?” His voice was laden with disbelief.

“Forgiveness isn’t mine to give. Neither is hate,” she answered, _and ain’t that the truth?_ It wasn’t her that he wronged. She’d only realised then that he might still need to hear it. When she spoke again, it was as clear and calm as a spring breeze.

“I don’t hate you.”

“So you say now, without any kin of yours dead” he muttered, but she wouldn’t allow him to detract her now.

“It doesn’t matter even if you did, I’m just one person. You should think more of the _hundreds_ other deaths you owed,” she said calmly. He, on the other hand, could do far more than the average human could.

Far, _far_ more. For better or worse.

“What I meant to say is this: _what have you decided to do for New York?_ You owe the city for all those lives lost and the destruction. What you’d do with that debt is your choice.”

“You can _choose_ what you wish to be for the future.”

His eyes were closed, his breathing still unsettled.

Silence hung over them. If the conversation had been difficult before, now it was the last dregs of the rain after a storm. When he opened his eyes, she could see the worst had passed, and one is left to collect the pieces wherever they fall. His voice was as colourless as a drizzle as he spoke.

“And what, Darcy Lewis, do you think a monster would do?”

He held her name intimately like something he caught falling from the sky. She wished he did not treat it like that. She was the brash Darcy Lewis. Just the poli-sci major who ran off with her mouth too often and was just too frank that she couldn’t get an internship in her own field as easily as most people could.

 _Just Darcy_.

She mulled over the question. _A monster would…_

“A monster would not feel regret,” she began. “A monster will turn its back on the city. A monster would continue on the same path of destruction and cause more death and pain. Monsters do not contemplate about the result of their actions. They do not _think_.”

Darcy was uncomfortable staring back at him, because she wasn’t sure if he realised how much of his thoughts he had laid bare in his eyes. Priceless treasures of the mind were just one glance away for any unscrupulous thieves to take, and she was not sure if she was strong enough to hold back from doing so. The lines of his forehead were heavy with the clouds of thoughts unshed.

Darcy took a deep breath, steeling her courage to meet his gaze. “Monsters, you see, _don’t learn from their mistakes._ ”

His sharp intake of breath was audible to her and he moved closer.

“You expect so much from me, don’t you? It is alien to behold.”

He said it without inflection. It would have sounded no different if he was commenting on ducks in Central Park. Perhaps it wouldn’t have sounded any different if he was off killing people either, but she doubted—he had wanted to drive her away by pointing out he was a monster and a danger to her. He wasn’t completely apathetic to her foolhardiness.

His thumb was drawing invisible lines on her cheek. She was wrong; his eyes were not glasslike by any means. They were the green of St. Elmo’s fire and capable of burning her.

Darcy spoke again. “I don’t expect anything _unreasonable_. I only expected you…”

… _to be human_ , but those would be the wrong words for him. Her voice was barely above a whisper. It seemed fitting for their confidences.

“…to be fallible.”

“ _You_ expect too much of yourself. You Asgardians are _not_ _gods_ , no matter what you think. Whoever made you carry all that weight in the first place?” She asked.

Darcy did not know how many seams of his life she had just pulled apart, but she could see the strands disintegrating in his eyes. She didn’t see the self-assured prince that trespassed her lab for kicks. He looked so broken, so lost that she couldn’t help but reach out to stop him from falling.

The attraction between them that had simmered before now crackled to life. He caught her breath in a kiss, electrifying her nerves all the way to her toes. She could taste the sadness in his tongue, and resignation, but the strongest flavour of all that she caught was _hope_ , and it was brighter than Venus in the dusk sky. He poured it into her so fervently and without limit that she had no choice but to receive his unsaid prayer. Anytime now she might even glow like a shooting star.

Her hands suddenly slipped away from his silky hair, and she was alone once more in the lab. The hum of her computer felt incongruous. The rapid beating of her heart was loud in her ear, and her hands were still tingling and half numb with want.

“Fucking tease,” she muttered.

The automatic doors slid open Tony Stark walked in. Darcy sighed. _Alright, that explained the disappearing trick_.

Stark was in his I-own-more-money-than-God suit, as opposed to his grease monkey outfit. His coat was bespoke and Italian made. He even wore sunglasses on indoors—all signs that he’d just narrowly escaped another meeting. Stark came to a stop very quickly after he walked in, and bobbed his neck around the room like a headless duck.

He was, simply put, rather confused.

“You look like hell, kid.” He commented.

She laughed. It was either that or cry, and if she cried, she wouldn’t stop for a while. She didn’t know when it had happened, but there were certainly some dampness over her cheeks.

“You should see the other guy,” she said. He raised an eyebrow.

“By ‘other guy’ do you happen to mean a certain green-obsessed princess?”

She would’ve laughed it off, but she saw the well-hidden lines of worry in his face, and she settled for a smile. “We were just talking.”

“Suuuure, and the lads and ladies don’t throw themselves at me.” He gave her a surreptitious side glance, hands in his pockets.

She snorted. “Yes, _really_. You did catch the tail end of what happened between him and Thor, right? It was just… fallout, I guess. I’d be fine. I was just there to catch the pieces. I’m not either Asgardian royalty—speaking of people in messes, both of them are probably in a real bad shape right now.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment but stare. It was a surprisingly honest gaze when he put the effort for it. “You know, if you ever need someone to teach the princeling a lesson or two, you know who to call, right?”

Tony Stark was undoubtedly a rogue, but deep down he was a good guy. She could see it in the effortless way he extended his hand to her, even when he hadn’t really known her personally for that long. Before this, she was just another name on his payroll, and there were a _lot_ of names on that list.

She winked.  “Nah, I don’t want you to sprain your back when you get thrown out of another window, _Grandpa_.”

He mock staggered with a hand over his heart, miming a direct hit.

“Ouch! Oh, ye of little faith!”

Her laughter rang freely after that, and she could see his grin growing. It felt good to laugh.

“Thanks for taking the trouble to check on me, but really, I’m fine.”

He shrugged. She saw how he made another sweeping glance around the room and realised he might not have come _just_ for her.

“Oh, you’re looking for Loki?”

“Well, he did complain about the accommodations, so I was going to tell him about his room changes. Seems like he’d been away for a while.”

“Where would his new room be?”

She extended her hand while asking, making it clear that she expected room keys along with the answer to the question. Tony acted confused. “What?”

“You can drop the keys with me and I’ll pass it on to him,” she answered, as if she did this every day.

“Since when are you buds with him?”

Tony seemed sceptical, and for a good reason. When did she even meet Loki mano-a-mano for the first time? This morning. She hadn’t completely understood what moved her to do this, only that she did. Yet in some ways, she felt she had known him for longer. She shrugged, acting more casual than she felt.

“It’s probably easier for us to be friendly since we’ve never tried to kill each other.” He stared at her askance and Darcy ploughed on. “Unless you _really_ want to give the keys to him yourself? And maybe get another homicide effort on your books? Man, if that was supposed to be foreplay, I do _not_ want to know the details.”

That got her a snort from him.

“Ha _ha_ , Lewis. You think _your_ kink for bad boys is better?”

She smiled anyway. “What kink? I just happen to have eyes. Like, what a snazzy suit you have there, Mr. Wolf. It really does your ass justice.”

Tony’s smile was dazzling, with enough jagged edges to stop him from being perfect—which, paradoxically, gave him his magnetic _je ne sais quoi_. Darcy wished she was wearing shades of her own to stop her from getting blinded. She would swear that he certainly could strut better than a peacock.

“I know. I’m _such_ a handsome devil.”

“Humble too,” she replied dryly. “What a catch.”

“Humility is just hypocrisy in another coat, Velma. _Everyone’s_ always proud of their own good work. Some of us just own up to it.”

She sniffed. “Some of us do not have enough pity for other people’s ears.”

Tony brightened at that but made no apologies for himself. Not that Darcy even expected him to.

He made little tap-tap-tap sounds with his fingers on the nearest table and Darcy suspected he could play the piano among his repertoire of skills. The complicated gears turning in his head was easy to imagine. “Well, just promise me you’ll be careful, okay?”

Tony retrieved a keycard from his suit pocket and dropped it on her hand without further ado. He was surprisingly free with it. She whistled.

“You’re not going to tell me to stay away from him?” She asked. He grinned as he lowered his shades.

“Who do I look like, your father? Besides, it never worked for me, so I can’t imagine being told off like that would work on you.” Darcy had mixed feelings about it—she was simultaneously proud _and_ worried. With a nod and a grin, he walked away from her. He waved back.

“Remember, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, and if an accident happens anyway, name it after me!”

She laughed, holding her concerns back for another day and took that moment to be carefree.

“Don’t forget to name _yours_ after me!”

That earned her a chuckle. Just before the doors, he turned around and walked backwards, his brown eyes uncharacteristically serious. “Just… stay safe, okay, kid?”

She answered him in the same vein, with eyes that were older than her face.

“Yeah. Will do, Tony. Will do.”

‘-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason I had the best feel in writing (and editing) this chapter with the soundtrack for _Howl's Moving Castle_ playing on loop. You may have noticed some seepage here and there. There is also the obligatory Princess Bride quote.
> 
> The odds that I'd update seven days from this one is a bit low because I'm staring hard at Chapter IX and I found it to be underwhelming compared to Chapter V (this one) and VII. I'm probably off to take it apart and it would probably affect the chapters before it. (Will probably update the week after that).
> 
> The author will admit to being a tease with this chapter and gladly accepts any thrown fruits and vegetables from the audience for salad.


	6. VI. Searching (Not All who Wander are Lost)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Jane drops in unexpectedly. Darcy’s on a search and wanders around to poke at things. She meets Thor and listens to unexpected memories._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate chapter title is a gratuitous Tolkien reference. Bit of a slow chapter. Things pick up again in the next one.

### VI. Searching (Not All who Wander are Lost)

Darcy’s first reflex when she was just hanging in the lab was to start tidying stuff up. You can’t go wrong with tidying up. Darcy would be the first person to admit that she was messy, but she usually restricted that to her personal areas and kept it away from work. Jane was even worse at keeping things organised, so she never ran out of things to do.

Apparently, that principle only applied before Loki sent everything to their place with a wave of his hand. Jane’s most recent notes had even been stacked and ordered by date, no matter if she wrote it on notepad, hotel stationery, brown paper bags or the back of a _flyer_. Only the next batch of data entry was left and she hated that with the burning passion of a hundred suns.

She sighed. Well, there was always tomorrow, wasn’t there? Maybe it was time for that nap that she told Loki she was going to catch up with.

(Darcy resolutely didn’t think about what said God of Mischief was probably doing right now. At the end of that rabbit hole lays madness).

Sadly, her luck seemed to have run out today. All she needed to go home was to stuff her phone into her bag, but guess who came around when the lab door slid open?

Jane. She certainly looked refreshed after a good night rest and loving godly attention.

“Darcy! I’m so glad you’re okay!”

In a burst of speed, Darcy was hit with a face full of hair in one moment and an armful of Jane in the next. The astrophysicist hugged her like there was no tomorrow, face buried in Darcy’s neck. It was unlike Jane’s usual quick hit-and-run hugs either; it was the sort of hugs you have on airports and the culmination of years without seeing each other. Darcy hugged her back with a distinct feeling that she missed something.

“Jane? What’s wrong? Are you alright?”

The scientist spilled her worries to Darcy. Apparently they were on very different phases on the news cycle.

“I’m supposed to be the one asking that question! Thor was woken up by an alarm on his phone because his brother had escaped, and just before he left we received news that he was found here! I was never so thankful to have been off work.”

“Wow, you were glad _not_ to work? I should thank Loki about it, anyway. Maybe he should go Prison Break more often,” Darcy joked. Jane swiped her shoulder.

“Darcy! That wasn’t funny, that was _scary_. Were you back at your apartment too? You seem to be just fine. Did you manage to avoid an encounter with him as well?”

_Well, I did kiss him senseless over the kitchen counter and yes, it made me feel absolutely_ fine _._ She certainly couldn’t give Jane that answer.

“I’m great. No explosions happened today at the lab! There were no unexpected rainbow bridges to nowhere suddenly dropping on my head either or anomalies making Swiss cheese out of reality. You know what, Boss-lady? I’m actually kinda disappointed with the normal office job.” She said it all with such conviction that it was hard not to believe her. Not unless one’s name was Jane, apparently.

Jane stared at her askance, “really? You always complain on the road.”

“Hey, that was the road. The miles and miles of nothingness is _boring_. That’s, like, an _inch_ above an office job. Have you heard me complaining when we reached the spot? Of course not. I _love_ the anomaly spots.”

Jane’s lips twitched at the corners. “You mean when you yell at me about being stuck in ‘the set of Twisters’ or thinking out loud about the possibility of ‘sandworms’?”

“Eeeeh, yeah, those,” Darcy bit her lip, her voice too chipper by a half as she hastily waved it away, “but I meant only good things by that. Anomaly Nine was really pretty, after all. As was all that sand in—”

“—New Mexico?”

Darcy faltered. She shook her head with blatant disappointment.

“No. There is no excuse for Bumfuck Nowhere, Puente Antiguo. That place sucks you dry of any spirit you have. We were lucky to get out of there with our souls.”

There was a second of silence before they both broke into laughter. The day’s worth of tension and worry bled out of both of them.

“Ooh, that was pretty nice, actually,” Jane regained her balance first. Darcy agreed.

“Yeah. I haven’t heard fun Jane in a while.”

Jane pursed her lips, “what do you mean by ‘fun Jane’? You think I’m not fun?”

“Not when you’ve been working too much. It doesn’t matter now. It looks like Thor had been good to you,” Darcy said oh-so-casually. She cleared her throat, used her best English accent and struck a theatrical pose as she asked.

“So, how fares your bed, Lady Jane? Does it still lives? Does it bear the scars of The Hammer’s assault?”

Jane groaned and covered her face with her hands. Darcy could see her blush to the tips of her ears. “You just had to ask, don’t you?”

Darcy’s face lit up with glee.

“Awww, come ooooon. Spill, girl! Why else would you get on with a god unless it was to brag? Give us mere mortal a glimpse of his—”

“No.”

Darcy pouted. “Hey, I haven’t even finished—”

“Still no.”

“Jaaaaane. Janey, Janey, _Janey_ …”

 Jane folded her arms. “That is so preschool. You know that’s not going to work on me, don’t you?”

Darcy laughed but did not give up. They joked around like that for a while. Darcy knew that Jane was an intensely private person, the opposite of Darcy, and that asking her for details on her private life was unlikely to yield any results. Still, Darcy enjoyed the asking itself just as much as she wanted to know the answer.

“You don’t have to come in at all while I’m on a break,” Jane finally said as she prepared to leave once more.

She had run some statistical analysis on her data once (she had begged to Darcy that it wasn’t really the same as coming in to work _a whole day_ , and Darcy relented).

“ _We’re_ on a break. I know. I probably wouldn’t be here tomorrow. I just thought of tidying up the last pile of data you threw together before you left yesterday.” Darcy said, just as ready to leave.

Jane rolled her eyes. “It’s not that bad, and it definitely wasn’t an emergency.”

“Uh huh. Keep telling yourself that.”

It got her a light smack on the arm from Jane as they walked out of the lab together.

“I know where everything else is.”

“And only _you_ could find anything if I leave it that way.”

It was an old, well-tread topic for them, warm and familiar. They stayed like that for some time, talking about nothing in particular (Darcy adamantly avoided any discussion on work) just like any two friends.

Jane never did get around to asking her more questions about Loki. It was what Darcy had intended, yes, but she wasn’t _happy_ about it—she didn’t think she wanted to hide her interactions with him. So, she could be in his company for more than ten minutes without being traumatised. So what? She just didn’t know what Loki’s problem about being caught kissing her was and that was the only thing holding her back.

She sighed. She wouldn’t know the answer without asking.

‘-

Jane made her way to her apartment and Darcy to hers. She wanted to go take that nap, but she remembered Loki’s room key. Once the door was closed, she simply leaned back on it.

“Jarvis, do you know where Loki is?”

The AI answered her from a speaker beside the door. “He is last detected in Dr. Foster’s lab.”

Well, okay. That would’ve been too easy, wouldn’t it? Still, it couldn’t hurt to check.

“Is he still there?”

“There are no significant signs of his presence.”

“This _sucks_.” She wandered around her living room, wincing at the cluttered coffee table and just laid down on her couch.

What possessed her to ask his key from Tony Stark? It wasn’t as if she had a better way of finding him. She supposed she could plead temporary insanity. There were kisses and there were _Loki’s_ kisses; the latter should come with a surgeon general’s health warning label.

_Wait a second_ , Darcy thought.

“Loki? Loki of Asgard?” She called out loud, trying to ignore the part of her that said she’d only look stupid this way. At least she could say she’d _tried_.

“Um, this is Darcy Lewis?”

There was more silence and one-person awkwardness than she thought was possible to ever experience—even the _walls_ seem judgmental that she wanted to glare back at them. Her saving grace was that no one was there and she could pretend it never happened. But how to contact Loki, though? She doubted he would hang around the creepy box when he’d been trapped in it before.

_Hmmm… there was the cup he’d tried to steal before and… no, that was ridiculous._ _He was_ caught _, he’s a_ prisoner _. He wouldn’t even…_

She sighed. If she was in his position, she’d take the opportunity. _He so, so would_.

_What’s he got to lose now? What would they do, capture him_ again _?_ She could even argue that he’s in the perfect position to steal it. And Darcy had all intention to run right into him. Never mind that she wasn’t superpowered or augmented or super-spy trained or _anything_. But it wasn’t as if she was trying to stop him, was she? He just needed to get his room key and she wanted to deliver it. Voila.

Darcy stood up from the couch. Sleep suddenly looked a lot less interesting than it had before.

“Well, why the hell not?” She asked no one in particular.

She was going to take a bath while she thought over this.

‘-

“So, Jarvis, any idea where the Dawn of Civilizations exhibit in Stark Tower happened to be?” Darcy asked. She was pretty sure the team didn’t come home with that box and not bring anything else with them.

“I may be able to provide you with the directions,” came the electronic reply.

“Yes!”

“But I am not sure I should. Your clearance is not sufficient.”

“Dammit! Come on, J, what’s the worst that could happen? You know I’m not about to give him some weird-ass Artefact of Power.”

“Would you prefer the reply to be alphabetised or listed by order of magnitude?”

Darcy pouted. She only had herself to blame; she was one of the few people who had been diligently expanding the AI’s knowledge and repertoire on sarcasm and irony (one of those other people was certainly Tony Stark). He had used the phrase correctly too. She would’ve praised him if he didn’t annoy her.

“Well, do _you_ have any better ideas, silicon brain? I don’t see you offering to take the keys off my hands, hmm?”

There was an audible pause. In terms of computing cycles, that might as well be _infinity_. Darcy was proud that she got Jarvis to think that hard.  _That’s gotta be some sort of achievement, right?_

“You can return the keys to Mr. Stark—”

“Out of the question,” Darcy said. She had not failed in any task set on her and she wasn’t about to start. Especially not for something so trivial. “It’s just delivering a _key_. How complicated could it be?”

She was met with silence for more than five seconds. It was a new record.

“Miss Lewis—”

“Alright, don’t answer that, Jarvis.”

‘-

After some deliberations, Darcy went down to B6 again because she was out of better ideas. She made sure that her name tag had been newly printed and prominently displayed (it displayed her newer clearance, for one, a step from her old one). Her stride was a purposeful one and she drew no attention in the restricted area. There was enough foot traffic that her arrival could easily blend in. The only thing she needed to make sure that she looked legitimate was a clipboard and a pen along with some requisition documents on top of that.

The tall door opened easily with her access cards once more. She really had to think of an appropriate gift idea for Jarvis, other than to keep on doing what she’d been doing (expanding his mind! With _gifsets_ ). That would be too boring.

With its series of large transparent-fronted cells, the place was closer to a hall than a room. The tables and machines (when present) were arranged in particular groupings and the people followed. She guessed that they represented different teams. The cell in the middle still had the box, but she could see that it was open now and empty. The inside of the box was of a dark colour, one of an indeterminable texture or detail that she couldn’t quite define without getting closer—not something she’d do voluntarily, thank you.

_Well, he certainly isn’t hanging in there_. Why on earth would he?

She sighed and walked around some more, doing her best to look inspecting. It turned out to be not such a bad idea when she noticed that some people were packing up. _That’s weird…_ she frowned. Fortunately, it provided her with a conversational topic to use as well.

“You’ve just set up shop and you’re leaving _again_?” She asked.

The guy who was wrapping something in bubble wrap sighed. He was tall and reedy, and he pushed his glasses higher as he answered.

“I _know_. It wasn’t like I had any say in it either. First they say that we should be prepared to be housed in Stark Tower for a while, _then_ we get orders to move again. I wish the higher ups could actually make up their own damn minds.”

She eyed his identification and saw one of those temporary guest IDs. He was probably one of the exhibit or museum staff that got carried over in the fuss of securing artefacts.

“Oh, yeah, that crap. I keep forgetting you guys don’t know that,” she said, tapping her pen to her chin.

His eyes perked up. Not only that, two of his co-workers also turned to her with something resembling hope. They probably hadn’t been given a lot of information, because that would explain his almost desperate look. _It sucks being on the lower end of the totem pole, doesn’t it?_ Come to think of it, they look like grad students or newly minted PhDs. There’s still that hopefulness in their eyes.

“What did they tell you about the move?” She hedged.

“That half of the exhibit had to be moved for security reasons,” a blonde co-worker of the packing guy informed her. “We heard of what happened in the museum, but I thought it was supposed to be over by now?”

“Weeeeellll…” Darcy drew out. She saw them hanging to her words with bated breath.

“Well, yeah, you’re right on the first. Someone tried to get something. I’m not sure which one was targeted, but I’m sure it’s one of the higher end exhibits. Those got moved here too, right?” She asked. It sounded like a rhetorical question, but Darcy genuinely wanted to know. The woman nodded.

“Yes, they’re the ones at that end of the hall,” she pointed out to her right, and Darcy followed her arm.

“I thought they’d be putting it in safes, or something.” The brunette commented.

“It’s hard to find appropriately climate-controlled safes,” Reedy guy said. “Some of the items have very rigorous environmental requirements that have to be met, and their current containers are just fine for that.”

“Uh huh. So they’re going to get packed up too today? All of them? I just wanted to make sure because I think you guys just increased my workload,” Darcy raised the clipboard in her hand helplessly. “I needed to know by how much.”

The woman winced. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Not your fault.” Darcy assured.

“I think so,” the previously-quite third member of the team spoke up. Freckles stood up on her nose. “Everyone seemed to be wrapping since up lunch.”

“Huh. Okay…”

“So,” the blonde began, “do you know why we had to move again? And not even to return?”

They all look so curious and hopeful that she couldn’t even consider saying no. _Oh why not_ , Darcy thought. It seemed harmless enough. She wouldn’t want to be completely in the dark either, if she was in their position.

“Y’know what? They caught the wrong guy.”

Various exclamations of surprise and disbelief followed Darcy. There were two more people in the group than before. _Must make this quick before I draw more attention_.

“Shhhh! Keep it down!” They quieted down quickly enough with the incentive of actual news and everyone huddled closer, eyes trained on her. “So, I don’t really know too many details either because I’m administration, _not_ security. The short version is this: they were expecting someone to come and try to steal something, right? But whoever came, it wasn’t their target.”

“Who came?” One of the newer audience members asked her. She smiled. She might want to help them a little, but the clearances were there for a reason.

“I didn’t get the details. Who knows how many supervillains with their own agenda are out there, anyway? Maybe he or she was after something different. The bottom line is, you guys aren’t out of the woods yet. Sorry.”

A series of groans rose at her final words. She gave a sheepish smile. “So, nice catching up with you guys. I’ll just go on and check on the other items, then?”

The reedy guy’s team all gave their thanks to her and waved her away. She carefully drifted from them to other teams, also packing, and managed to make a turn around half the room as she did that. Slowly but surely she was edging closer to the higher end exhibits, as pointed out by the blonde.

It was kind of a weird let down. She managed to subtly hang around and talk with even more people, and they enthusiastically showed it to her too (to them, she might’ve been a welcome change from all the uninterested SHIELD agents). In the end, the cup was still there—an old bronze object that didn’t look all that great stuffed, packed and under poor lighting. It was larger than she’d thought it would be, the kind of thing that would be more comfortable held in two hands than one.

“That’s it?” She blurted out.

The man holding it in his hands let out a small smile, apologetic. “I know it doesn’t look like much, but it’s much better under warmer lights.”

“It-it’s not that bad,” Darcy quickly said, but he only grinned.

“No, I know what most people think when they see it like this. I understand. I promise I’ll inform everyone here when we’re on display again.”

“Uh, yeah! Good idea!”

After a bit more small talk after that, she said her goodbyes to the too-enthusiastic assistant curators or grad students who were very eager to share the wonders of the artefacts’ history with her. She sighed, leaving with both her hands in her pockets. _The cup is still there after all—so I guessed wrong?_ On the path to the door were three people counting sticks and balls blocking her way in argument.

“The list says thirteen!”

“Well, I’m telling you that I only found eleven!”

“Maybe we hadn’t taken all of it with us?”

Darcy dodged a petite woman in dreads and a hipster looking dude who stopped their disagreement to berate the unfortunate intern saying the exact wrong thing at the wrong time. _Man, probably some bureaucratic slip-ups messing things up even more_. She gave out a gusty exhale yet again.

_That was kinda anticlimactic_.

‘-

Darcy didn’t return the key to Tony (there was _no way_ she was going to walk back to him and say she couldn’t find Loki. _No. Freaking. Way_ ), but she did the closest thing to giving up.

She went around looking for Thor.

He wasn’t in apartment… which meant the next best thing would be Jane’s. It wasn’t too difficult since they were all on the same floor along with Darcy’s (127th). It took no time at all for her to walk away from his door and locate the astrophysicist’s.

Her problem was that she wasn’t sure if she wanted to knock.

She waited for a few seconds. Just to make sure she wasn’t going to catch wind of some ear-splitting scream or anything. She had seen Thor’s bare ass once, and as nice an ass that was, she didn’t actually want to see _Jane_ at the same time, banging him—it was a good thing her legs were faster than her brain. She had run away once more before she saw too much.

_So. Knocking._ _Better get along with it then, Darce. The door isn’t going to knock itself_.

She rapped her knuckles over the door.

“Jane? _Thor?_ ”

The door opened not long afterwards. Jane and Thor were both at the door. Darcy was glad they didn’t have the look of one forced to undergo coitus interruptus. This was awkward enough without them having the half-glazed expression of the sexually thwarted. Thor seemed happy to see her. Jane actually froze.

“Lady Darcy!”

“Darce! Is one of the machines breaking down?”

“What? No! What, I can’t see you without something wrong in the lab? It’s good to see you too, Thor.”

Jane wavered. Darcy stepped inside their apartment as they ushered in. Her eyebrows rose as she twigged on the issue just then. “Oh, you’re going your usual round of lab withdrawals again.”

“I’m _not_. For your information, that is not an actual medical category either,” Jane insisted. Darcy grinned.

“It _might_ be a new one,” Darcy replied. “You know, a disease with a population size of one.”

Jane snorted a failed laugh against her own good sense. Darcy gave her a winning smile when her boss looked horrified at her own lapse.

“I rue the day you learn science jokes,” Jane said.

“Hey, just admit you like it. Reminds you of home, and everything.”

She smiled. “Want me to get you something to drink?”

“No, um, maybe? I don’t think I’d be here for long, though.” She drifted closer to Thor as Jane went off to the kitchen area. It was probably a decent apartment anywhere else, but considering the last apartment Darcy had in New York was the size of a walk-in closet (it was not Stark Industries’ funded), Jane’s apartment was large. It had two bedrooms and a kitchen-and-dining area.

“Do you know of how to contact your brother?”

Thor furrowed his brows and concerned filled his face. His voice was a comforting rumble to her ears. “Loki? What mischief has he wrought this time?”

“There’s no mischief up, Thor. I just need to pass him his new keys from Tony.”

“I’ve got juice,” Jane said as she came around again with glasses and a bottle with clear-coloured liquid inside it.

“That’s okay,” Darcy replied.

“So, what brought you here?”

Jane sat down to Thor’s left and her hand found his within seconds, fitting naturally. Thor lifted it to kiss her knuckles and she let out a small giggle. Then, the astrophysicist grew red with embarrassment when she realised what she just did—Darcy took pity on her and didn’t mention it. They were so nauseatingly cute that Darcy was surprised she didn’t want to barf when she saw them. It was probably because Jane and Thor were genuinely too nice for their own good. There was no way she could muster enough annoyance against either of them. She could see that their evening plans seemed to have been going well before she came.

She hoped she wouldn’t ruin it with her news.

“As I was saying to Thor, I needed to contact his brother,” Darcy said.

Jane frowned. “Loki? But why? Ohmygod, he came to the lab, didn’t he? What happened, Darce? _Why didn’t you tell me?_ ”

The brunette laughed, hoping it would make her friend relax. “Tony gave me the key to his new room, because they’re not going to lock him down the basement anymore. So you see why I have to find him, right?”

“Thor could find him for you,” Jane said quickly.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” Darcy replied just as fast. “Tony gave it to me and I’m going to see this to the end.”

“But there’s no need to face him yourself. He’d faced down Loki once and he won’t force anyone in the same position,” Jane pointed out. It was a reasonable argument, but Darcy still felt reluctant about handing the key over. It feels like a cop out, and after she’d gone this far too.

“Jane, I know you’re worried and I appreciate that. Still, I’m not trying to have a smack down with him or a drag-down fight to the death here. I’m just handing over a _key_.”

“Still…” The scientist had not stopped looking doubtful. Darcy decided to be blunt.

“Thor, do you think your brother can kill me if I go find him?” Jane tensed slightly.

“His cuffs limit his powers greatly, and I have been told that it does not react well with aggressive magic, or intents of bodily harm.” Thor explained.

“See? I’m not dying any time soon, Janey. No worries there.”

“ _Darce—_ ”

“So, Thor, is there any place he usually hangs out at?”

“He is new to the Tower, so I am not so certain.” Thor replied. It was odd to see him looking so thoughtful—probably because Darcy didn’t see it often. “The cuffs are part of a special chamber in the cellars, so in the event of an emergency, we can summon him there.”

Darcy found herself speechless the first time she heard that. “Summon?”

“Yes. There are glyphs and everything else written on the walls. I have seen it tried once, just to make sure.”

“You mean, he’d be dragged away from whatever it is he’s doing into that cell if he was summoned? What if he was taking a bath? Would he be dragged there _naked_?” _Though that would be quite a show. There is nothing like a man in dripping water…_

Thor’s eyes widened as if the thought had only occurred to him now. “You make a very good point, Lady Darcy.”

“I don’t really want to know why _that_ is the first thing that comes to your mind,” Jane said. She was leaning on Thor, a hand rubbing her forehead. Darcy shook her head.

“Then, I decline your offer, big guy. I don’t really want to piss him off. So…?”

Thor sighed. “I am not conversant on the abilities of the chamber. It may have more sophisticated capabilities, but I am not a scholar that can assist you in unlocking them.”

Darcy sighed. _Another dead end. Great._ That seemed to be her lot lately. “No problem. Thank you for that information anyway—I didn’t know that bit before.”

She drank the grape juice while thinking. Maybe she needed to get back to Jarvis again? No, it felt lazy, and she wasn’t going to keep taking shortcuts unless it was really necessary. Besides, she didn’t want to keep piling up her debt to Jarvis, never mind that the AI wasn’t even keeping count. It was the principle of the thing that mattered.

Thor leaned back on the couch. He had exchanged the hand that was holding Jane’s, and now his left hand was free to pull her closer as they snuggled. He probably wasn’t consciously aware of what he was doing. Darcy had to really, _really_ hold back the urge to take out her iPhone and snap a picture.

Wait, why would she need to hold back again? Self-restraint was for other people. She fished around her pockets and went ahead anyway. Even their surprised expression on the third picture was cute.

“Fwhat?” Jane blinked.

“You’re both too gosh-darned adorable. I probably can’t post that pic without getting a National Security warning stamped all over my ass, but I can certainly keep it.” Darcy said. All that thinking had also given her an idea.

“So, where does your brother usually hang out at your house in Asgard? I mean, you both have favourite spots, right? Like, the backyard, the attic, your room… something like that?”

Thor brightened. “He has always loved to be in our mother’s rose garden in the palace—when we were younger, I confess that he stayed there because mother would stop me from trying to drag Loki away to my scrapes when he did not wish to. As for the royal training grounds he is scarce there—I am never sure if he despises it or if he finds some other means and place to sharpen his skills.”

_Of course they live in a palace_. She thought with a mental eyeroll. She kept forgetting the details about the whole alien-princes thing.Yet there was something disquieting about the thought of a young prince hiding behind the briars and thorns preferring to be left alone.

“Loki was not partial towards combat practise and we have teased him for it. The library has always been his second home. Whenever I have need to find him, it is always the first place I visited. However, I have never…” he sighed. “…I have never understood his interest in books before, when I was younger. Not until I met Jane.”

She could suddenly see in her mind’s eye a young boy with dark hair, darting between tall shelves and avoiding his brother and his friends with a book in hand. He was a scholar in a warrior nation, a young man more careful than brash. Perhaps prudence had been too easily taken as cowardice, perhaps a different matter occurred. Whatever had taken place in the past, she could see how the following years could have driven a rift between the two brothers, as different as night and day…

Thor trailed away and Jane squeezed his hand. He drew support from her as he tucked her under his chin. Anyone else would’ve thought that Thor was Jane’s pillar—but Darcy had seen that it didn’t actually work that way between them. _She_ was his foundation, the solid ground by which his reality was built. He was her _heart_ ; Darcy didn’t think Jane truly, properly _lived_ before being with Thor got her to relax a little more and take life day by day.

“You’re not that person anymore,” Jane said, softly.

“I am still not a scholar, but yes, I am not blind. _Thank you_.”

Jane reddened.  “Oh, _please_. I didn’t do anything significant.”

“You were _you_ ,” Thor spoke with reverence, “and that was to my blessing.”

Darcy thought she could see the boy he was too; a blond one whose kind soul was fired and forged into something harder and more brittle because that was what his people gloried in, and he forgot who he was while chasing victories to impress them with and fulfil his duty. Thor was still lost to memories with Jane being his only anchor to the present. When he spoke up again, his voice was hushed. It was also, against all reason, _gentle_.

“Where I am sure to never find him is in the banquet halls; he would be absent if he was not required, usually by mother. It is not a blatant dislike but it is not hard to see where his natural preferment lay. Yet for all that, his conduct has always been perfect. The responsibility of a prince rested fittingly on his shoulders; even his diminished enthusiasm for grand affairs cannot be taken as reproach against his character. If his methods are novel and unusual, who will argue against the problems he’d solved?”

The Asgardian sighed.

“Yet for all that he seems to be, I have never known, never thought…”

The words hung uncomfortably in the air, the silence speaking of possibilities lost and two brothers sundered. Jane hugged him tightly.

“You _didn’t know_ ,” Jane said firmly. “You never knew, and he never told you about it either.”

She was in Jane’s living room again, instead of the imaginary mead halls in her mind. Her heart felt as it was constricting painfully in her chest. _It wasn’t fair._ She didn’t want to sympathise with Loki more than she already did. He was a _basket case_ and he was shutting out people who cared about him. Interacting with him would be as pleasant as chewing glass.

_But you can’t leave him alone now, could you?_

She wasn’t sure if either Thor or Jane still remembered that she was there. “…alright. Thank you for sharing that, Thor. I’d just be… out and about.”

“I hope you can find him, Lady Darcy. Because I’m not sure he would want me to find him.”

She merely nodded and hugged Thor hard. He looked like he needed hugs and she didn’t know what else to say. They found strength in their support for each other.

What _could_ she tell him that wasn’t a lie? That his brother didn’t dislike him?

“I’ll find him.”

It felt less like a reassurance and more like an oath.

‘-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you go. Now you have Thor's angle on things. (For some reason it's kinda hard to avoid fluff when I'm writing Jane and Thor). See you next week, folks!
> 
> (Note on edits) I edited the previous chapters to change or add:
> 
> **a)** Changed Natasha's name to Natasha Romanova because that one's an actual Russian surname instead of some Anglicised version. Also happens to be her name in the comics.  
>  **b)** Added completely extraneous and random glossary on the end notes. Because I'm weird like that.


	7. VII. Turn This Way (Rencontres sans Masques)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Darcy finds Loki. More conversations. Loki can’t ever give a straight answer because he’s a little shit like that and has diva mood swings. The Indefatigable Pepper Potts appears and Darcy gets blindsided._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gratuitous French alternate title is gratuitous: Encounters without Masks.
> 
> Everyone had read my earlier warning on lots of conversations, right? _Good_. Also, there is much nerdery and geekery on full steam ahead.

### VII. Turn This Way (Rencontres sans Masques)

It was not easy to find out where to look for him first. Darcy was sure that Tony Stark was a technophile. So even if he might have a legacy library filled with books in his homes, she had doubts that he’d have any in the newly minted Stark Tower. Of course, there was nothing wrong with just asking Jarvis while she went back to wandering around.

“There is such a thing as the employee library, Miss Lewis.” Jarvis told her

“What’s inside?”

“Mostly technical texts and academic references.”

Darcy brought up her StarkPad and hit the intranet to find more details about said library. It was rather nice as libraries go, but she could see that it was also popular. People came and went all the time, and the place was even open for twenty four hours on some days. What she first couldn’t believe was how one of those days was _Friday_. That was before it all made sense in hindsight. _I bet there are many people like Jane working here_.

For some reason, it didn’t strike her as a place Loki would be comfortable in. She’d check later, just to be sure, but it wouldn’t be her first choice.

“Are you sure there are no other libraries?”

“There are two libraries in Stark Tower, both accessible by employees,” Jarvis said. Darcy went ahead to check the second one and read the description. _Nope_ , she thought. It was still as popular and was possibly even worse because it had a coffee shop attached to it. The picture of the sitting room looked downright cosy. In her experience in college, the places that looked the prettiest on the brochures were usually swarming with students most of the time.

Darcy closed her browser. “Seriously, isn’t there any place anyone could sit down and read quietly in a rainy day? Alone? Surrounded by books?”

“That would be what a library is for,” Jarvis’ tone was dry.

She was too busy thinking about other potential places to reply. _Library, library…_ maybe she had to be more creative in her definitions. “Where’s the largest collection of knowledge in Stark Tower at?”

“Shall I include those not publicly accessible?”

“Of course. Wait, are there _libraries_ that are not publicly accessible? Jeez, Jarvis, why didn’t you tell me so from the beginning?”

“I am afraid I’m misunderstood. Those two libraries are the only libraries in Stark Tower.”

She paused as she digested that. _It wasn’t technically a library_ ; that was what Jarvis was saying. _Then again, what could it be?_ She did say she was going to broaden her definition, wasn’t she? Did she actually need to know about what it is right now? No.

“Jarvis, give me the directions to get there.”

“I will download them to your StarkPad, Miss Lewis.”

‘-

She ended up in front of one of Jarvis’ server rooms (it wasn’t labelled as such, just something like ‘cloud computing and network intelligence’ experiment blah blah blah, but she got the hang of bureaucratic doublespeak while being Jane’s assistant).

A quick swipe of her card opened it. She _really_ had doubts whether she was allowed to be there and Darcy was only thankful for Jarvis’ generosity. The air was chilly and she was glad for her love of knitwear. Tall cabinets filled with computing capacity were lined up in rows upon neat rows over sterile white floors and LED lit ceiling. She might not even know what she had been asking for, but Jarvis _did_ give her the correct answer. His physical drives were definitely the largest repository of knowledge in Stark Tower. This wasn’t just stored data; this was a part of _him_ , his silicon brain.

Jarvis was right; it was and wasn’t a library. _Huh_.

Her rubber soles gave a soft squeak against the floor.

She just wasn’t sure whether she was in the right place, though. It was certainly _not_ where you would hang out to hide on a rainy day. There was a certain coolness and distance from the place that she never felt from Jarvis as the place was all hard lines and corners.

Darcy also wasn’t sure what she’d do if she found Loki there. There were his keys that she needed to hand over, yes, but the idea that the God of Mischief actually _knew_ what computers are scared the _shit_ out of her.

Her steps had taken her to the end of the first row and checked the aisle running at right angles from it. The one to the right showed her more rows of servers that ended after a while. No surprises there. To her the left, there were similar rows and…

…was that shag _carpet_?

She made quick strides and was never happier that Jane never cared for really formal office wear. She could certainly run in her battered Nikes better than high heels.

Instead of the smooth end of the server room, what she saw was an impromptu sitting room—never mind that there wasn’t even supposed to be enough space for it. Yes, there was that green shag carpet she saw from a distance. There was a large locked travelling chest on top of which was scattered several books written in a script she couldn’t read and it served as a low table. The last was a large green couch with a wealth of pillows. Loki lay haphazardly on that couch as if he’d been there for a while. A Minority Report-like interface floated in the air in front of him, unintelligible glyphs running across the screen while his hand gestures were more annoyed than smooth. He was frowning, muttering things under his breath with boots discarded in some far off corner. She could see that his hair looked the way it did now because he kept running his hands through them.

He looked _human_ and all her worries melted away. She could do this.

She could take it one step at a time and not come up with doomsday scenarios. _For all I knew, he might just be trying to order pizza_.

“Need a hand with that?”

“I was wondering when you’d speak up. You seem to enjoy staring so much.” He didn’t look up from his work. The smooth tones of his voice still sparked a frisson at the bottom of her spine, but she could ignore that. She was a big girl.

Darcy rolled her eyes. “Yeah, because _living rooms_ grow naturally all over the place _all the time_. I gotta get myself some of those seeds these days.”

“Sarcasm is the lowest form of humour,” he replied.

“Bzzt! Wrong!” Her imitation of a buzzer piqued his curiosity. “That would be slapstick.”

Darcy dropped herself on his couch, pushing down the remaining foot he had there to the floor. He sent her a _look_. She simply laid back and rearranged the fluffy pillows around her instead, raising her eyebrows at him in challenge as she settled comfortably there. _Urgh, this couch is sooo comfy…_

“I hate to sound like a broken record, but I thought they restricted your magic?” She asked.

“They did, but retrieving stored objects is trivial,” he replied. The assistant gave him a look of sheer envy. He could’ve carried a whole _house_ in his pocket dimension, and no one would know. And he could always camp in style, _anywhere_ , and—

_Focus Darce!_

“You don’t happen to be hacking through some network in Stark Tower, are you?” She tried for being honest and hit bull-through-china-shop instead. Loki’s answering smile was more than a little scary.

“What if I am?”

There was a threat he didn’t even need to voice for her to get. _What are you going to do about it?_

The small and furry mammal part of her brain preferred to hide in a dark corner away from that look; it spoke of a capacity to skilfully extract pain. But she took a deep breath and forced herself to go through everything she’d seen instead of gibbering. _Deep breathing, Darce, you can do this_. _One_ , she was reasonably sure he couldn’t kill her even if he wanted to without screwing himself—see Thor’s comment and Natasha’s statement. _Two_ , she never forgot that his title was God of _Mischief and Lies_.

After more than several seconds, she shook her head with a snort and kept her nonchalance with an iron will. He might intimidate her but she wasn’t going to run away first. Darcy excelled at chicken games in college.

“Nah, you’re not.” She stated.

Loki was offended that she took that conclusion so quickly.

“You have no self-preservation instincts at all, do you?”

“ _Hey!_ I’ll have you know that I have enough. At any rate, it’s still much more than Jane.” She protested.

“Which is not much of a comparison when you know what she does.”

Darcy ignored Loki’s offhand comment because it was so near the truth it was sitting on it, though not even Loki knew how true he was.

“Anyway, what would you even be attacking with? You’re already caught and bound.” She said this with the most innocent expression she could manage, knowing enough that even the statement would be rubbing it in his face. “It would be a much better use of what little you could do to try to escape rather than anything else. You said it yourself that they’ve restricted your magic—so, no grand messes could be in your agenda right now.”

She was sure she wasn’t imagining his disgruntled expression. Probably because she knew more than he expected to. _Seriously, do I_ look _that gullible?_

“It does not mean I am not plotting any.”

“Plot away jailbird. Plot away! I’m sure that’s the most fun you’d be able to do for a while, isn’t it? I certainly won’t be a killjoy.” She chirped back. Any sign of vindictive glee she kept tightly under wraps. Any and all _looks_ he sent her she made sure to only return with her brightest smile as she acted like she had no idea why he was even staring at her like that.

She counted it as a victory when she could see him doubting his own suspicion for even one second.

He ignored her for a few minutes to keep typing and even muttering orders out loud to the floating text interface, but she was fine with it. She could just lie here for another moment or two, snuggling to the silken pillows and entertaining herself—if he thought he could outlast her stubbornness, he had another thing coming. Darcy whipped out her StarkPad and logged in to the intranet messenger with her work email:

> _darcy_regina@stark.net is logged in_. _Darcy_Regina is online._
> 
> _Darcy_Regina: J, why didn’t you tell me outright that Loki’s in your server room?_

She skipped through the announcement that she was now connected to the artificial intelligence and neural network blah and all other stuff laboratory and stopped at the end bit that she was waiting for.

> _JARVIS is online_.
> 
> _JARVIS: I did not detect him until you entered the anomalous region of space at the end of this room, Miss Lewis. Your additional presence allowed me to gain a more accurate reading and collapse the probability waveform of sensor data into the detection of an actual occurrence. Previously, he can be in any one of thirty-seven locations. The server room isn’t on the top ten of them, hence my choice to omit the information_.

Darcy didn’t even pretend she understood that except the last bit. She’d probably just show it to Jane sometime.

> _Darcy_Regina: Fine. Just tell me if anyone’s coming here or looking for me, okay?_

If the main screen Loki was wrestling with was a plant, Loki’s demanding expression would’ve withered it. Sometimes some weird geometrical shapes pop up in a new floating screen to the side—he worked on it so quickly she was never sure what gestures or shifts he did. His frown only seemed to increase the more he did it, though.

“See? From the way I see it, every moment you spend glaring at whatever it is you’re making is one where you’re _not_ taking over the world. Especially when it’s buggy like that.”

“It’s not full of insect life,” Loki insisted. Other than typing into _thin air_ , his hands occasionally flew in rapid strokes and he looked more like a conductor trying to direct an orchestra that way. He had really beautiful hands; there were faint scars and clearer callouses, yes, but it did not take away from the grace. They were also large enough to almost cover her entire naked waist and he certainly looked like a man who had enough finesse with his fingers and knew what to do with his hands.

_Wait, not going there right now, Darce. Not. Going. There._

“I mean your work is _screwed_ , Dude. No one looks that constipated while they’re coding if they’re not making spaghetti code out of it.” Darcy said. She could see Loki’s expression twitch at that and ignored it.

He gave a not-quite-concession not long after that when he leaned back. She could see the slight doubt on his face, the disappointment he wasn’t even ready to address himself right now.

“It is far quicker and easier to raise an army and attack this building than trying to understand the precise chosen form of your reckoning engines. Much less all the additional time needed to determine the basic orders it does and everything else built upon those grounds.”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down, Geronimo. I don’t think your Babelfish is working at all,” Darcy rushed. As wonderfully convenient the Allspeak was, she found it still glitched a bit on more technical conversations. “Or maybe it’s just more Google Translate than Babelfish.”

“Perhaps,” he said grudgingly, “I’m not sure I understand you much better either.”

“So, uh, reckoning engines. Reckon is like, _thinking_ , right? So, thinking machines? That’s probably a _computer_ ,” Darcy began.

She didn’t have time to mull over what exactly all the stuffs he was referring to when he spoke up again.

“Yes. To involve alien _computers_ in plans of rapid conquest is unnecessarily complicated. It’s faster and more interesting to see what people will deny you if they think you powerless and what they will accede to if your force is sitting right next to their border.”

“So, bring a big stick and speak softly,” Darcy said, remembering Teddy Roosevelt.

Loki was nodding away. “An acceptable approximation, I suppose. I find the threat of death and more death gets people in line very quickly most of the time than anything sophisticated.”

Her voice turned fainter. “Death and _more_ death?”

His shrug was too casual for her. Loki didn’t even register her doubt.

“What else is an army used for? To fight your battles and to convince others you are able and willing to cut through a swathe of men to reach your purpose.”

She could not be completely unaffected when he treated people as useful and disposable pawns on a chess board—if she had been holding a drink, she’d be sorely tempted to dump it on him. On the flipside, the more she stared at his busy and occupied figure, the more she realised that he wasn’t even posturing to scare her this time.

And wasn’t she lucky that way to have a chance to see what most others fail to find?

It was all just part of who he was. _Come on, Darce,_ think. _He’s a prince, after all, isn’t he? When he grew up in Asgard, he would have dealt with its share of wars_. Darcy realised that she could get annoyed at him now and escalate their argument, _or_ , she could hold back and instead pursue this half-open door to see what she could find beyond it.

There was no contest as to which impulse won. She was too curious for her own good.

“ _So_ , what _are_ you trying to do?” She cocked her head in the direction of the square of floating text to extend another olive branch. “I might be able to help, you know. I _do_ maintain Jane’s computers and install the programs she needed.”

He scoffed. She ignored it because she wasn’t sure she had been the target of it, not with the frustrated way he was glaring at the floating interface. He waved his left hand and it floated even higher. Even if Loki stared at her with doubt, he still fixed his attention on her all the same. _Wow_ , she mused, _he’s more desperate than I thought, then_.

“I don’t think you can read Allspeak.”

“I don’t have to know all programming languages to recognise a familiar problem,” she threw back. “What _were_ you doing, anyway?”

“Trying to get this,” he pointed out to the interface above him, “to manifest a Reader to read the stored _books_.” He pointed at the servers.

His answer took her off-guard. “Did you manage to retrieve some of the files…I’m sorry, _books_?”

“I managed to grab a pile of static knowledge though I’m not sure whether they’re the ones I want, yes. Were these questions going anywhere or do you simply not know what to do?” He was tetchy and if he made another comment on her apparent stupidity, she was going to throw her pillows at him, god or no god.

_Wait, he wasn’t doing it on purpose_ , she thought, half in disbelief, _he just sounded sulky in general_. _This was just him with his code not working_.

“Correct me if I’m wrong. You had the files, but your…Pad can’t read them. So you decided to _write a program_ to do so _on the fly?_ ” Darcy asked, flabbergasted.

He tilted his head slightly to the side, as if he had to retranslate the words she used manually.

“I am trying to shape a Reader, yes.”

It was surreal; this was what the God of Mischief did on spare afternoons, writing random programs because he couldn’t get his books fast enough and he was too much of an _ass_ to ask for help. It would explain _everything_ if Thor was the jock brother and Loki was the nerd the popular kids tolerated because he came with Thor.

“I just thought you were a _sorcerer_ , not a programmer… waitaminute, this is Clarke’s Law, isn’t it? Very advanced techs don’t look that different from magic?”

“There is _never_ any difference between them.” He emphasised.

She wasn’t even aware that Asgard had advanced technology— _of course they do, look at their life expectancy, Darce_ , but seriously, she thought they were all _magic_.

“Magic is merely beyond the cognisance of people from lower realms, as you have helpfully demonstrated.” Loki quipped, still bogged down in his code.

“Yes, _yes_ , fuck all of you self-absorbed Asgardians, your superiority complex, and all that crap. Go earth,” she said with not a little sarcasm. She was really getting too used to his condescending ass if she could be this blasé. “Are we done with the dick measuring contest yet? Fulfilled your quota of insults today? Can we _now_ get a _fucking_ move _on_?”

Darcy received a reproachful glance for that. If that was the only reaction he could give for her language, she didn’t really care.

“Soooo, your program isn’t that far along yet, is it? When would it be done? Christmas?” She asked. It was hard not to reach her limit of being nice with him.

Loki raised an eyebrow. “Will you spend all your time asking the obvious, Miss Lewis?”

“ _Darcy,_ ” her voice was sharp. “Call me Darcy; and I wouldn’t need to do that if you could actually tell me something instead of being too busy _sulking_ , then _we’d_ be doing something more productive.”

It earned her a cold look. Darcy continued undeterred.

“Look, I get what you’re doing, okay?”

He seemed sceptical but with that arrogant expression that meant he was too polite to say so. Not that his face would leave anyone with any doubt as to his real opinions. _Of course not. We can’t have the domestic help failing to understand disdain, can we?_

She never thought she’d see it on anyone outside period drama and Darcy had just _had_ it and threw her hands in the air.

“Do you _want_ me to help you or not? What are you looking for? I probably could get it for you through our _paltry mortal computers_ and you don’t _have_ to reinvent the wheel for it on your divine tablet!” Darcy huffed.

“You can?”

Did he know just how hopeful he looked under all the jerkass? Darcy tried to reconcile the rumpled guy in front of her who’d probably spent hours coding with the megalomaniacal wannabe dictator of earth.

Her efforts combusted spectacularly. Probably at the same time her panties did.

“Yes! Yes I _can_ and I _will_. You’re _really_ not used to asking for help, are you? Did you always go off to do things alone in Asgard?” She said, trying her best not to vent her frustration at him.

There was that minute twitch of his eyebrows and she knew that she’d hit a sore spot. What annoyed her more was how she could recognise an actual vulnerability there—she’d bet her Rainbow Dash plushie that he’d been a loner bookworm. Shit, she even felt _guilty_ now. Darcy sighed. She couldn’t apologise to him if she wanted; he would never acknowledge the chink in his armour and he’d just get pissed off if he thought she saw it.

“Do you have a list of what you’re looking for?” She asked. Her voice was friendlier, back to her chipper assistant tone (she gave grudging credit to all those retail customer service training). “You know you could actually get almost all the books you need if you just hit the employee libraries here, don’t you?”

“Too many people,” he replied.

Darcy suspected it was less the people and more the inability to create his own reading room there, and how his personal bubble was, like, _a mile wide_ because _he’s a fucking prince and he’s entitled to it, yay_. Also, no, her sarcasm wasn’t directly related to the level of her sexual frustration, why do you ask?

He had sat up and shifted so that he was sitting next to her. She acted like she wasn’t hyperaware of his thighs pressed against hers, or how a sniff of him made her want to lick his throat.

The floating interface thingy came down with a wave of his left hand. It worked by voice command too, because he spoke words she couldn’t understand and lines came up on its screen. A few more orders from him and the end result was a list of English book titles and it floated next to her tablet.

The tension Darcy didn’t realise she had left her shoulders.

She had wanted to believe the best in him, but some part of her hadn’t quite accepted it as reality until she had some proof, and here they were. The books were spread across a wide range of subjects that she couldn’t see a pattern to it yet. There were some physics and science textbooks that made her cringe unconsciously, but there weren’t that many of them. Apart from the occasional science titles, many of the authors’ names were familiar to her from her own reading assignments and she could feel herself perking up in interest— _politics and culture? I could teach him a thing or two_. A large chunk of the list was English—some were German, there was the occasional French, _and was that Chinese? And Hindi?_

Fondness bubbled inside her like champagne because _this_ was familiar. _God, he’s such a nerd_.

“I used the library indexer in your common libraries and I received these as recommendations for the topics I was looking for,” he said, by way of explanation.

“Could you copy that list for me?” She asked. He made a complicated movement with his left hand that looked as if he was using some sort of sign language. The interface flickered and a scroll dropped into her lap. It was a little warm, and she dropped it into her bag before she forgot it.

_O…kay_ , she noted with raised eyebrows. _So it has a Print feature too._

“Thank you. Also, what’s the Indexer?” Darcy asked.

“That bulky interface machine you keep in the lobbies that allow you to access the catalogue.”

She tried to understand what he was saying as her hands moved on their own, opening the library’s intranet website on the StarkPad. A few more clicks got her to the page about account requirements.

“Oh, that’s just another computer. Yes, well, you know that you could actually access the catalogue from _anywhere_ you are, as long as you can log in through the internet, right? You don’t have to be physically there.”

A puff of breath tickled her right ear. She bravely continued on, as if she had ice water in her veins.

“You could be reading from your room while drinking wine as long as we can set a library account for you. That shouldn’t be too difficult either. I can definitely do it in a few hours. You’ll see. I am not going to let a fellow nerd get parted from books—that’s just cruel and unusual punishment.”

She did her best not to imagine his bedroom. She got the image of Loki sprawled over silk sheets for her efforts. Her throat felt dry.

“You _would_ do that, wouldn’t you?” He asked. It had an undertone of _wonder_ , out of all things.

Darcy warily took her eyes from the screen. The way he looked at her was something between a revelation and manna from heaven. He asked a thousand unspecified questions at once.

“ _Why?_ ”

_Oh for fuck’s sake_. She was an assistant, not a _saint_.

She sank her fingers into his hair and gave him an open-mouthed kiss for her answer because, _why the hell not?_ And how on earth could she even begin explain that she saw no reason not to give him a second chance? It was as heady as it had been before. He sighed with relief and proceeded to kiss the sanity out of her and Darcy was glad to be on the way to deliriously happy. Loki backed her to the armrest and she pressed herself against his encompassing presence. His fingers curved along her ribs, exploring it with such meticulous care that made her breathless. With every moan he coaxed he became more determined and she arched away from the couch to let him slip his hand underneath her shirt. Loki had cool hands, raising goose bumps and a delightful shiver. Darcy had had boyfriends and girlfriends and none had ever held her this intimately as they kissed.

Unfortunately, Jarvis was the most polite cockblocking friend she’d ever had.

“Ms. Potts had just tried knocking on your door and received no answer, Miss Lewis. I believe she is about to knock on Dr. Foster’s apartment now.” The AI said.

“Shit!” Darcy cursed. Loki sat up and spat some words in something that sounded like Old Norse, whose sentiments were similar. His collar was skewed to one side and she wished she could see more of his shoulder…

Speaking of apartments, she had totally forgotten about his key, hadn’t she?

“So! I’ve been looking for you because Tony had prepared new accommodations for you. Do you know how hard it is to find you? You should _totally_ get a cell phone, or something. Wait, no, _I’ll_ start the paperwork to get you a ‘phone. It’d be faster.” Darcy spoke all this in a voice that was much too cheerful than was necessary, but she had to distract herself in a hurry. Her hands shuffled through the pockets of her jacket for the keycard (she had to look at least semi-formal when she wasn’t in her more field-worthy outfits). Her attention had begun to wander over Loki’s form again before she forced herself to look _up_ , pushing the key into his hands.

“Aaand here’s your apartment key; it’s on the 127th floor, apartment number eight. We’re neighbours! My apartment is number five, Jane’s on number four and Thor’s in three. You know where to find me.”

Darcy kissed him one last time, for good luck, and just because she wanted to see how fast she could destroy his coherence. The answer to that was ‘fast enough’, but he evened the score by being able to open her bra _one-handed_ and she wasn’t even sure he’d met the contraption before.

She pulled away a moment before she was going to straddle him, basking in his confusion.

Darcy stood up and sauntered away, putting an extra swing on her hips, purely for his benefit. She made sure she didn’t look back (Darcy knew that was half of the effort, right there), and it caused her to miss the hungry look on his face.

Also, she hoped Tony wasn’t going to get mad at her for too long if she got Loki a StarkPad. _It was utterly necessary_ , she reasoned, _it’s for world peace, man!_

‘-

“Is Ms. Potts still with Jane and Thor?” Darcy asked Jarvis once she was far enough from the server room that her thoughts didn’t circle back to what she’d left behind.

“No, but I have informed her that you are on your way. May I suggest the library coffee shop, Miss Lewis?”

Wow, Jarvis was _good_. “You sure we won’t be eavesdropped, Jarvis?”

“There are private booths available, and I’m sure Ms. Potts is aware and will have made the arrangements.”

“Swell. I’ll be happy to meet her there, then.”

‘-

The coffee shop in the library on 71st floor shouldn’t even be called a _coffee shop_ , Darcy thought, still busy in taking in her surroundings. All the wood panelling, low tech appearance and understated, old world décor brought in mind of British gentlemen’s clubs.

Apparently when Jarvis said _employee_ _library_ , what he meant was closer to Hogwarts’ Restricted Section, because she had to flash her ID card to the ident-reader by the door _and the other library doesn’t do that_. If Loki wasn’t so antisocial or just plain prickly about new places, he might even be comfortable here.

It wasn’t difficult to find Pepper Potts. Darcy only needed to find the one redhead in the room that could simultaneously be on the cover of Vogue _and_ Fortune. She was not the only smartly-dressed woman there and Darcy felt distinctly underdressed—and she already dressed differently than when she and Jane were in the field. Thankfully there were the usual smatterings of lab bound scientists and the sleepless zombie graduate peons, because she saw more than a few of them wandering around and found that her outfit was still okay.

Pepper stood up, in a slate grey suit trimmed with silver. Her hair was braided in a deceptively simple style that Darcy wasn’t sure she could actually do alone.

“It’s good to see you, Miss Lewis,” Pepper said.

“Um, you too. I mean, it’s great to finally meet you. Just Darcy, please.”

“Only if you call me Pepper. Please, take a seat.”

The brunette tried to smile and it came closer to a nervous grin. They both sat down; Pepper did it with what Darcy was sure was supernatural grace while she bumbled her way into a chair. “I’m not taking you away from any important business, am I?”

She smiled. “Oh no, not at all. I happened to be free this evening. How are you settling in Stark Towers?”

This sounded a lot like those job satisfaction conversations, the primary difference being the _frigging CEO herself_ actually took the time to meet her. Darcy gulped.

“Great! It’s been absolutely great! Did you know that Bruce and Tony are our neighbours? I mean, wow, talk about being close to superstars,” she reined in her enthusiasm a bit. Pepper Potts didn’t need to hear her verbal essay on the awesomeness of the Avengers. She was plenty awesome herself.

“And of course, there’s _you_. I’ve never forgotten the talk you gave on campus on how to make it to the top in Wall Street’s alpha male culture. The parallels you drew to how it’s still more of the same in DC and even Silicon Valley was some serious _analysis_. More people need to call the old guard on their bullshit! Frankly, I _cannot_ speak enough about that TED talk you gave last year either. Also, am I boring you? Please tell me I’m not boring you because I never stop talking when I’m nervous.”

Pepper wasn’t offended at all; she laughed. Darcy could even see the crinkles on the corners of her eyes. It wasn’t one of those small polite laughs. It was an easy, carefree one.

“It seems like you’ve been following my career, Darcy.”

“It’s hard not to when you’re a poli-sci major.”

Oh, Sarah was going to want _all the details_ once she heard about this, Darcy thought. As poli-sci majors, they both followed Pepper’s career. She really needed to keep in touch with her best friend from college again.

Pepper’s eyes sharpened with interest. “Oh, yes, I was about to ask about that. How do you find working for Jane? I know you two’d been working together for some time, but I thought you might want something to do something else closer to your calling?”

A waiter came and served them coffee, still fragrant from the pot. A large, sectioned plate of assorted dried fruits came, some looking more exotic than the others.

“And I’m sorry; I don’t know your preference, so I hope you can forgive me for ordering something for you ahead of time.”

“It’s no problem.” Darcy insisted.

Whatever Pepper had ordered smelled _divine_. She wouldn’t complain about it. The two women enjoyed their drinks in a moment of peace. Pepper waited expectantly, and Darcy tried to put her thoughts to order.

“I don’t touch Jane’s theoretical work. That’s obvious. I did get used to her hardware and how she constructed it—it’s really off-the-wall. And don’t ask her about which programs she wants to install. She just has a list of features and it’s up to me to find the one that ticked all the boxes, install it on all our computers and _read the frickin’ manual_. I didn’t realise I need to touch a statistics textbook _again_ for that.” She shuddered from the memory and willed it away again. She’d taken two statistics class because they were a requirement, but she passed it only with blood, sweat, toil and tears.

The assistant huffed. “And don’t get me started on organisation; if I leave it to her, she’d just place all the documents in _one big pile_.”

“Tony was much the same before Jarvis was fully online,” Pepper said, reminiscing. She didn’t sound half as stressed as Darcy had expected her to be, and was actually a little amused. _Well, she did sleep with the guy_. Even if he drove her up the wall then, it probably seemed cute now through the lens of nostalgia.

“But please, Darcy, are you happy?”

The question caught her off guard. “What?”

“Don’t you miss those talks on public policies, of the ways we can improve how the government works?”

Darcy’s breath faltered. She still _wanted to_ , that was the problem. But she doesn’t want to leave Jane either. She was also getting used to her current work even if she had no idea how to get promoted beyond her current position (she was _not_ an astrophysicist here, definitely). In the end, she still _cannot make up her own mind_. Apparently, Pepper wasn’t done yet.

“Speaking of correspondences, may I have your email address, Darcy?”

Pepper deftly slid her business card across the table. The act partly reminded Darcy that now she had a Proper Job, she probably needed to get her own set. Pepper’s name and contact detail was written in letters that were graceful even when unadorned, on an ivory card that was smoother than it looked when she picked it up. Her mailing address was the C-suite of Stark Tower and Darcy had to hold herself back from whistling.

> _Pepper Potts,_  
>  Chief Executive Officer,  
>  Stark Industries,
> 
> _pepperpotts@stark.net_

“Uh, don’t you already have it, in the company database and everything?”

Pepper arched an eyebrow. “Do _you_ want to work for a company who hands out access to its employee database without reserve?”

She winced. _Right_.

“Of course not. You’ve made your point. Let me write it down somewhere…” While Darcy was scrambling through her messy bag for a notepad and pen, Pepper easily slid through her address book on her StarkPad and set that across the table to Darcy too. She entered her email address there.

> _darcy_regina@stark.net_

Then, she turned the StarkPad around and pushed it over to Pepper’s side again. Pepper observed it with mild interest.

“Your address is not just Darcy underscore Lewis, then?”

The brunette thought back to her reasons as she gave her answer. “There was a Darcy Lou in…corporate comptroller, or something? Some accounting stuff. No way in _hell_ am I going to get mistaken with someone who works financial accounts. There’s _also_ another Darcy whose email was ‘just darcy’ with no spaces in…biomed engineering stuff.”

In the end, she shrugged and downplayed it.  “Gotta make sure I had something memorable.”

“So, Regina is your middle name, then?”

Darcy smiled and did something she wasn’t proud of; she sidestepped the truth and flirted with lies.

“Something like that.” Her middle name was actually Victoria—Grandma Lewis’ name.

“ _So_ , not that I’m not happy chatting with you, but I don’t think you came here just to eat with me, did you?” Darcy asked quickly.

The two women exchanged glances for a while before Pepper finally nodded. She acknowledged that Darcy could see through pleasantries easily. When the redhead spoke again, her voice had become firmer, with more interest in them than bland corporate politeness dictated.

“Dr. Foster gave me an interesting, abbreviated reasoning of why she joined Stark Industries when she’d had offers from elsewhere with competitive salary quotes. Something about how the unchecked growth of state surveillance and secret organisations can easily encroach on what the Bill of Rights had granted to each citizen. I didn’t think politics to be her field of study, so I presumed that you were the one who’d given her a rundown on the issue.”

She had Darcy there and Darcy could do nothing but agree with her.

“I’d love very much to be able to see your essay on it. In fact, _I_ think you should publish it. I could give you the emails of some editors that I’m sure would be very interested in it. Your work is very relevant now, especially since some of the examples for your concerns seem to include SHIELD, the up-and-coming organisation people in the right places keep hearing whose exact nature of work is not clearly defined,” Pepper said with uncharacteristic frankness for a business leader.

Darcy understood then that she was one of the few lucky enough to see a glimpse of the woman Pepper Potts was, not just the image she carefully crafted and managed for the world.

“I believe that we as a society _need_ to have more works tackling headlong the issue of the modern surveillance state. If people can’t see it easily then we should bring it to the public consciousness—we can’t have an informed debate on public policy if people aren’t even _aware_ of the issues we face.”

There was a conviction in her voice that Darcy had missed hearing. It was her own voice, muttering in disbelief in the middle of the night when she was reading about what sort of crap the government was trying to pull through the FISA court. It was the voice of Sarah when she was rousing their circle of friends on one pork barrel projects after another in their apartment. It was the voice of her other friends in political science, people who entered it because they wanted to _do something_ , to inform people how their country works and made sure their choices were made with eyes wide open.

It was tempting, _so very tempting_ to go back to it all. She pressed the heel of her palm into her eyes.

Darcy wrote the essay down because of a burning incredulity that would not go away no matter how long she ignored it (if she stewed for a few days more with all of it in her head, she was going to blow). She didn’t want to believe that the country she was living was one where the iPod of one harmless intern could be confiscated without so much as a warrant and never returned. Or that they could do the same to Jane’s research notes and Jane’s line of research without further explanation than ‘national security’. If it hadn’t been for the whole incident with Thor, the scientist and her work would’ve disappeared into obscurity altogether.

_I believe we can be a better country than that_ , she remembered saying once to Sarah. Her friend only rolled her eyes (but she was smiling all the same). _Of course we can, Darce, but not without oversight. That’s why we’re here, remember?_

Pepper sounded sympathetic. She didn’t press Darcy for an answer and only pushed the dried fruits forward. “I’m sorry. I guess you’d need time to think over this.”

Darcy began to pick on chocolate-dipped pomegranates and sugared kumquats. Their table was secluded. It was not quite in the corner, only out of the way, and the other tables around them were suspiciously empty of people.

Yet the only reason she’d written the essay recently had only been for one person: Jane needed to know. Her friend needed to realise what was the stakes of the game was here if they give those shadow organisations more and more unchecked power. She needed to know that they could be players too instead of just pawns.

And of course the poli-sci major had never forgotten about what she wanted to do all those years before. _Hells yeah_ she wanted to change it. _Does anyone even need to ask?_

But Darcy had never been someone who trusted the easy path. _Not all that glitters’ gold_. She knew she’d sell her left kidney or a third of her liver if it could get her positioned right in the heart of DC. She knew that old hunger would probably still be readable in her writing, in her data, in her _face_.

It was why she couldn’t trust herself to answer—or Pepper for having offered it.

“I like you, Pepper,” Darcy finally said, not looking the redhead in the eye yet as she blinked the moisture in her eyes away. “I really, _really_ like you. In college, I’ve always thought I wanted to be like you and even now, I think you’re a good person who had achieved much more than most people could. You haven’t lost yourself in the business world.”

Pepper nodded soberly. “That’s a great trust you place in me, Darcy. Thank you.”

Darcy wasn’t done yet, though. It was just the beginning.

“Because of this, I’m going to level with you. I don’t trust SHIELD because they won’t even tell us what they’re doing and I’m sure you know that whole shtick about how absolute power corrupts. That’s why when they insist on getting their hands on even more of Jane’s data without any explanation _why_ , we _bailed_.” She took a deep breath. “Now, Tony’s a good man, I know that. But on the same note, I’m sure that SHIELD isn’t lacking good people either. The only difference between them is that _Tony isn’t omnipotent_.”

“He likes to think he is,” Pepper said with a dry note. Darcy let out a bark of laughter.

“Oh, I’m sure he _does_.”

She met Pepper’s bright green eyes and spoke her next words with conviction. “I know that he doesn’t actually think like that. It’s all just part of his public persona, isn’t it? The swaggering billionaire. Tony probably knows better than anyone else how fragile his suit is, or just how many steps away from his own mortality he is after each battle.”

Darcy knew she wasn’t imagining the tension in Pepper’s neck. She regretted to have affected her that way, but the words needed to be said.

The brunette sighed. “It’s the obsessive genius in him. I could see it because he and Jane are peas in a pod. She can see all the holes in her hypothesis faster than anyone else can, and that’s why she’s not aware how extraordinary her work is; for her, there are always more flaws she needs to hack at and that she’s not there yet. That’s why she keeps working day and night at it.”

“Tony’s brilliance wouldn’t have come this far if he wasn’t as obsessed in continuously improving himself as well.”

Now, it was Darcy’s turn to give Pepper space. She decided to try out the dried kiwis next. There were only specks of sugar on the surface, enough to draw out the fruit’s flavours and even out the zest, but not enough to overpower. They really were tasty. She was trying to decide whether she wanted to find out the price tag of the platter or not so she could order it some other time (or if knowing how much it costs was just going to give her a heart attack).

The redhead was thoughtful.

“You’re quite perceptive. Not many people would see Tony that way,” Pepper finally said.

Darcy shook her head. “No, compared to other folks, I’m just lucky enough to live here. I can see you guys being _human_ instead of these perfect heroic paragons of _whatevs_ , and I’m _invisible_. You can observe other people for as much as you like when you’re part of the background.”

“Who’s really looking at the lowly lab assistant, right? _Right?_ ” Darcy waggled her brows.

Pepper raised one finely drawn eyebrow without a word. Said assistant pretended that she didn’t know what the CEO was asking.

“Wait, where was I? Omnipotent! Right. So, Tony’s not omnipotent, that’s his redeeming point.”

Pepper’s lips quirked at one corner. “I’ll be sure to tell him that.”

“Nooooo, don’t! He’d be all sulky and I can’t get the toys I want and I’d probably have to bribe him with a lot more than just coffee and—wait, I’m getting sidetracked.” Darcy shook her head.

“So, on the not-omnipotent thing. The point is, I don’t know what the future would bring. If someone smashes SHIELD to pieces, or if suddenly Tony gets some super mutation from outer space and was all _fuck yeah I’m immortal_? And Stark Industries could well be lead by Tony _for the next five centuries?_ Pepper, I think even _Jane_ could see the concentration of power on his side. We’d leave SI without a backward glance and go off somewhere.”

“Somewhere?”

Darcy shrugged. This was all what-ifs, right? “I dunno where. Norway like last time is fine, though I’d suggest Bermuda first, because hey, _proper beaches_. No hard feelings. It’s really nothing on Tony or you.”

Pepper smiled. “None taken.”

The redhead picked some dried cherries for herself. Darcy contented herself with her drink. The coffee had a pretty strong and distinct flavour, almost spicy. She wondered what blend it was.

“This has been very enlightening,” Pepper said.

Darcy exhaled long and hard. “Yeah. I mean, I don’t know why you even need to talk to little old me, but it’s nice to be able to hit up with other social science people once in a while and talk about, y’know, _the wider world_.”

Pepper’s eyes were warm. “This has been better than I expected it to be too. It’s been great talking to you.”

“Aww, now you’re just being nice—”

“And you’re gently distracting me from noticing that you actually have a brain. That is certainly a very good pose to accentuate your figure,” Pepper noted shrewdly. “Unfortunately, it’s not going to work that easily on people who actually see you for who you are, Darcy. I am serious about the offer.”

Darcy stopped herself from saying whatever it was she usually said. She had to admit that she was too used to being dismissed quickly that she’d even turned it into a defence that by now she had gotten very good at hiding in plain sight; the kind of person pretty loud person that most people could automatically tune out. Pepper took her momentary loss of words as an opportunity to continue.

“I know you’ve still got your whole life in front of you and you’re in no hurry to get anywhere, but you don’t have to forget _your_ interests just because you’re currently assisting Jane in her work and looking out for her. You’re your own person too. You’re _allowed_ to be your own person. You do know that Stark Industries has an employee scholarship program too? I’m sure you have the capability to apply for graduate school.”

Darcy could almost feel her world tilt as Pepper said that, the strength of her conviction set in her smile. The assistant had never thought about it because, heck, who in the world cared that much about political science? It wasn’t as if the field was a rapidly growing one like tech. Stark Industries certainly did not _dabble_ in it. There was no Silicon Valley waiting to absorb poli-sci graduates.

“For _political science_? Seriously?” Darcy couldn’t stop herself from scoffing.

Pepper’s smile held and now it was even coloured with amusement. “We have employees from very many fields, Darcy.”

“Now, I still have vacancies to fill for political aides and I’m not in a hurry trying to fill it. Please, think about it carefully in the mean time and take care of yourself. I’m afraid I have another appointment I need to catch up with.”

Darcy blinked, not quite sure why the executive hadn’t changed her mind.

“Um, yeah, you too. Err, thanks, I guess?”

Pepper Potts, CEO of Stark Industries, smiled one last time before standing up to leave. A faint scent of magnolia drifted behind her along with an impression of freshly cut grass after a rain. She snorted softly at that. It wasn’t inaccurate. She now knew what they meant by the Potts’ _blitzkrieg_. Too many things now jostled for space in Darcy’s brain and she had no idea how to begin sorting them out. Could she just walk away and leave _Jane_ like that? Her friend was an adult, yes, but she certainly couldn't begin to care about politics—certainly never as much as Darcy. And what if there was another guy like that pissant Blake again? (Jane would actually describe him more accurately as _sorry excuse for a scientist_ and _sabotaging bastard of an ex-boyfriend_ ).

The brunette couldn’t _think_. _Since when was my life so complicated?_

Darcy slumped over the table with a groan.

“ _Shit._ ”

‘-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Complications, complications...
> 
> For those who thought that Blake's name was familiar, yes, I repurposed him to fit into Jane's backstory (suffice to say, he is not Thor even if there are uncomfortable similarities).
> 
>  
> 
> The Weird and Random Glossary:
> 
> _**Clarke’s Law**_ : Three ‘laws’* on science (in fiction) formulated by the British Science Fiction writer, Arthur C. Clarke. The first two isn’t really relevant and Darcy here is referring to the third Clarke’s Law: _**Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.**_
> 
> *technically it’s more of Clarke’s Conjecture than Law, but who cares?
> 
> _**FISA Court**_ : Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Court, also known as FISC Court, of the United States of America. A simple way to describe it is as a secret tribunal whose members are chosen by an unelected official. How will the public ensure that the decisions taken are in its interest? Oh boy, no way am I touching that issue with a ten foot pole. Nope. Search onwards under your own risk, preferably from a public computer and erase your browsing history after that.


	8. VIII. Roles, Positions (Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _A visit to Tony. The chat detours to wards. Darcy hauls herself back to her apartment. The God of Mischief hangs out. There is a conversation on shadows and governance._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, that is le Carré referenced in the alt title.
> 
> This chapter is better considered as a joined at the hip with the next one. Oh, they each have their own themes, but very interlinked.

### VIII. Roles, Positions (Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy)

The elevator opened on the 89th floor and Darcy Lewis pulled herself out of it. She just wanted to go straight to her apartment, melt into her couch and not think for a while, but apparently her brain kept having _ideas_ —like how requisitioning another StarkPad from official channels was going to take _ages_ , and wasn’t there a faster way to do that?

The doors to Bruce and Tony’s lab area parted for her.

The mutual area was empty. Bruce was nowhere to be seen, so she cast a glance back in the direction of Tony’s labs. Sure enough, the eponymous lab dweller was there, in one of the prototype pits. In his overalls, he was certainly a grease monkey once more than businessman. Tony heard her footsteps and glanced up from some big effin’ gun he was working on—the barrel was the size of her _head_. Darcy couldn’t be sure if it could even be sized down into the Iron Man suit but she supposed it wouldn’t stop him from trying.

“Hiya Tony,”

“Hey, kiddo. Got the delivery done with?”

“Yep. By the way, can I get a StarkPad?”

He stopped working. “I thought you already have one? All critical lab personnel have one.”

 _Here goes nothing_.

Darcy shrugged, both of her hands in the pocket of her jeans. “Well, yeah, I know. Thanks a lot for that, by the way. I’ve never been on a job where I get hardware before.”

“You’re welcome. Now cut to the chase, you’re stalling.”

“It doesn’t even have to be anything too powerful, you know? Just networked for library access and probably the internet too. All I need is the really basic, vanilla stuff. No sophisticated apps or anything. Some of the older, first generation StarkPads would be fine—I bet you’ve got some of them around here.”

Tony pulled his goggles over his head with a knowing smirk on his features.

“Lewis, I pulled that trick before you were a twinkle in your parents’ eyes. I noticed you haven’t answered my question yet.”

She sighed. _Well, points for effort_. “Loki needed a StarkPad.”

“He _WHAT?_ ”

“Alright, I _wanted_ to give him a StarkPad, okay? He was trying to connect some weird-ass Asgardian tablet with our computers and failing because he wanted to get some books. _He spent an afternoon coding an e-book reader, Tony_. That was how I knew. It wasn’t working yet the last time I saw him. It’s not going to work anytime soon either judging by his frustration.”

Tony stared at her with a ‘WTF??’ sort of look on his face. When Darcy only glared at him, he broke down into full blown laughter, complete with having to hold on to something because he was on his way to giving himself stomachaches with it. Darcy couldn’t help the corners of her mouth from curving upwards as well.

“You’re telling me,” he said between chuckles. “—that Reindeer Games is a _geek_?”

“Well, I thought it was high time he joined the club,” she said casually, as if homicidal gods took up hobbies on earth all the damn time and she was their glorified club president. “Because there aren’t enough geeks around here. I mean, there’s you, _obviously_ , and me. Jane’s a physics geek, and I suppose we could include Bruce, though he’s still more nerd than geek…”

Tony was still laughing his ass out when she trailed away. She stood away from the railings and found some steps down.

“So if we had exported the _open source movement_ to Asgard one of the attacks against New York could’ve been avoided altogether? Maybe we’d get a working Bifrost on top of that list too, eh, if we sucked him in with the codes on Stack Exchange?”

She raised her tone slightly. “ _Tony_ …”

“I’m just… I’m sorry kid, this is a lot to take in. Fucking irony, eh?”

“Says the man flying around in a tin can.”

“I’ve _wanted_ to fly around in a tin can since I was a kid. It’s not news,” Tony argued. “ _He’s_ space alien royalty who wanted to try playing divide and conquer with earth two years ago.”

She sighed. She wanted to joke around with Tony longer, and he had a point. It was hilarious, in the tragicomic way that life sometimes is. Because all those dead people from New York certainly couldn’t laugh with them, could they, where she still could? Darcy believed in laughter; she believed that they should laugh at the troubles that life threw in their direction and show they’re not _broken_. _You might step on me and crush me to pieces last time, but you haven’t fucking beat me yet. Come at me again if you’ve got the guts!_

They lived. The city survived, was healing itself, got attacked again at some other occasion, healed itself again, etc, and hopefully to infinity.

Alien princes with a boat load of issues unfortunately also came with the territory. She didn’t know whether Loki could laugh at himself yet, or understood what she and Tony was doing if he happened to be lurking around somewhere (he struck Darcy as a lurker, especially with the whole turning invisible thing). He might even misunderstand and thought she was laughing at him.

“You know, I asked Thor what Asgard was like,” Darcy said. Tony raised his eyebrows at the sudden topic change, but he didn’t say anything. “Apparently you have to be able to beat the shit out of other people for them to respect you; it doesn’t matter if you don’t like beating the crap out of other people. There’s a whole dominance ritual involved, you know? Sometimes the warrior culture reminds me too much of bullying high school jocks. Not always, but enough that I can’t just accept it as it is completely.”

Tony snorted. “I wouldn’t know about that. I was in MIT at that age.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Boy genius, no need to tell me. Seriously, though, I don’t think I’d be that well-adjusted if I have to grow up with that either.”

“You saw what books he was looking for, right?” Tony asked. His voice was casual, but she could see he just had to check. She would’ve definitely freaked out if Loki was looking up how to make bombs, so she could understand what he was doing.

“Yeah. Some science primers—undergrad level stuff. Then, there were a _lot_ on politics, political theory, history, comparative international relations and the like, along with some on civics and governance. Some French and German ones,” she said. “I’d _know_ , okay? It’s my field. There are also some cultural ones—and don’t make me remember the title and authors of the Chinese ones because, I have no idea how to read them, much less write it.”

She knew that it would take a little more consideration from Tony before he agreed to help, (actually, he looked as if he was trying to find the best way to turn her down), so she changed tack. There was something else she was curious about, anyway. “So, what’s this thing I heard from Natasha about how Loki’s cuffs are magic and there are wards to secure him in Stark Tower? Does it work? You _do_ know what he can pull off, don’t you?”

“The cuffs work,” Tony said dismissively.

“What about the wards? It’s one thing to say he can’t escape, it’s another to say that, _yeah, we’re locking him right here with us_. You either have spare balls or you’re insane.” Darcy said. “And _Dude_ , don’t even say you have spare balls. Pics or it didn’t exist. I don’t care if it’s floating in a tank in a lab somewhere—I want _proof_.”

Both of Tony’s eyebrows shot up. “You want to see _my pickled balls_.”

“No, you got that wrong. I want to see your _spare_ pickled balls.” She insisted.

“Has anyone told you you’re weird, Lewis?”

Darcy grinned. “Many times. You?”

“If I don’t hear that ten times before lunch, I know I’ve done something wrong. There’s probably an experiment to stretch the laws of physics that I haven’t done,” he said as easily. “So, wards. What about ‘em?”

“I don’t know much about physics, really, much less magic,” Darcy began. “But I do know two things: Loki’s got a lot of mojo and Stark Tower is _huge_.”

Tony stared at her, “go on?”

“So you’ve got to stop a guy who can pack a punch from escaping a really big phallic building. Not that I’m saying that anyone’s compensating for anything—”

“Hey! I’m well-endowed enough, thank you!”

She smirked, “—but man, you know what I remember? Jurassic Park.”

He stared at her sceptically. “Jurassic Park. _Really,_ Velma.”

“Hey, I _like_ Jurassic Park. Anyway, I’m getting somewhere. The thing I remember from it is that the dinosaurs are ginormous and the fences that kept them in are _really_ tall. Also, they stretch for miles and miles. To keep all of that electrified must’ve used up enough power to light up a small city. Just to keep the dinos in. One dead spot or one weak point and blam! Escaping velociraptors hunting humans.”

“I think I know where you’re going.”

“Well, I hope so. So, this tower? Huge. And yet you’re keeping Loki inside it instead of inside a cell, so you must be really confident in a) the cuffs and b) the tower wards itself to always keep him in, which brings me to point c) how the heck did you get that much power? The astronomical utility bill is going to make anyone scream.”

Tony was grinning now, his hands in his pocket. He seemed to be having more fun listening to her than she thought he would. “Magic?”

Darcy’s lips turned up at the edges as well.

“Oh no you don’t. You don’t get to cop out with the magic-bullshit handwave, Mister. Y’see, me and Jane deal with a lot of weird physics and magic bullcrap too. I can’t do a lot of the finicky calculations Jane could, but if there’s a universal principle even I could understand from her is that _energy can’t be destroyed or created_. It only changes forms. It’s true even when it comes to the so-called magical stuff which Jane always insists are just physics we don’t understand yet.”

Darcy delivered her punch line. “So seriously, if the wards for this really big tower are strong enough _everywhere_ to hold back Loki, how are you not paying your electricity bill _in blood_?”

There was surprise on his face, she could see that, and oddly enough, the childish joy of one who _loved_ to be surprised but who was never amazed as often as he wished—because for someone with such a keen intelligence, a greater part of the world became predictable for him.

There were the beginnings of what might be approval or admiration, but that was probably wishful thinking on her part because she wanted to be bros with Tony.

“So, power, huh?” He began.

“Yup,” Darcy said. “If you can’t tell me where you get that much, I don’t think I believe you when you say the wards are strong enough. I might be tempted enough to complain about it.”

“Really? To who?”

“I don’t know. Thor, maybe?”

Tony was actually _smiling_. “You’ve actually got smarts on you, Lewis. How do most people miss that, anyway?”

She shrugged with her hands in her pockets, “oh, you know, the usual. Once you have a sharp eye for beefcake and pretty dames as well as a robust sex life, people think you don’t have enough time or energy to think about anything else.”

Tony grinned wider, if that was possible. “While sex is actually _really_ useful to clear out your head. It cuts through the clutter.”

“I _know_!” Darcy nodded fervently. She was only too glad to find someone else on the same boat. So what if outside her more permanent relationships, she used to have a string of guys and gals she can have casual hook-ups with before she jumped on the workaholic train with Jane? It was still healthy. She knew where she stood with each of them and they knew the same thing too.

“It actually helps to see that you’re fretting about stuff that isn’t as important as it seemed before. It’s like, a lighter form of pot and legal in more states. You’d chill more from it.”

Tony raised an inquiring eyebrow.  “Are we talking kinky? Because that might be legal in _less_.”

“Heh. Semantics, Tony. Who’s checking, anyway?”

His amused expression said clearly that he was the last person to check or care. Darcy sat on a spare stool, completely relaxed by now as she did what she did best—run off with her mouth. “So what about that power source, Tony. Come on, is it even top secret? Are you worried that I’d run off and sell it to North Korea?”

 He scoffed. “Hardly that. You wouldn’t know the technicalities needed and it’s not something that would be easy to tap to for most people, anyway. We only managed it because we have Strange onboard. He said that it’s not just a matter of having an experienced practitioner on hand but relied also on the particularities of the land itself and how the people _fit_ with the land, if you could believe _that_. It’s not guaranteed to be workable everywhere.”

Tony thought over it carefully. “It worked here because he managed to rouse the _genius loci_.”

Darcy blinked. “The _what?_ ”

“The spirit of the place. The land spirit—I’m _not_ making this up, Strange explained this for a while for the Avengers and I’m sure the PowerPoint slides are still around somewhere. It’s ancient and thinks _really_ slowly, but compared to how the speed continents drift, it might as well be lightning. That’s how we have the power for the ward and that’s what’s powering it.”

She gaped. “It’s just…you could just _ask_ the spirit and it does work for you for _free_? Man, I want one too.”

Tony’s look was one of understanding. She could almost see the unlimited possibilities of _free booze_ that he was thinking through. Probably a perpetual booze machine. _Heh, maybe that’s the first thing he’d make if he could use the glowy limitless energy cube too_.

“If it was that easy, I would’ve asked for more help than just to power wards. You see, there are old covenants and whatnot that people have to follow to get the _genius loci_ to help them. Then again, keep in mind that it doesn’t care about the small things like getting food or gold, or other human needs. It cares only about the big things like Survival. I don’t get the details either, kid, but basically the spirit won’t cooperate and would actually be hostile to those who are ‘destructive to Nature’ or ‘displays disrespectful conduct towards Life’. It’s not as straightforward as it seems—it doesn’t even think like us, you see? Because regular wars and people dying in piles on the land won’t even make it blink because life and death are a normal part of the circle of life. There were mentions about predators and prey as well as the strong and weak—natural selection, basically.”

She nodded slowly as the picture started to come together in her mind.

“Yet an act like…spraying the place with Agent Orange would earn you its enmity and if your enemy asks for its assistance against you, it would gladly do it.” He finished. She tipped her head to one side to think.

“Oh, wow, okay. I _think_ I got what you mean. The rough outline of it, anyway.”

Tony shrugged. “Well, yeah, I only managed to get a vague idea of it too.”

 “Yep, thanks a lot for that, Boss-man!” She rubbed her hands together and circled back to her original request. _Two for the price of one_. “So, now that we’re _both_ clear on how secure this place is and that Loki is well and truly defanged, can I get that StarkPad, _pleeeease?_ ”

Tony took one look at her really earnest face, stared for a second too long before he gave up with a loud exhale. “Dammit. Not giving that up at all, are you? Sheesh, fine. You made your point, Lewis. See the drawers next to Dummy over there? Yeah? Open the third one from the top. There’s probably a pile of them in there. Bring one over to me and I’ll set it up for you.”

She sprinted up the steps in high speed, pumping her fist into the air. “Yes! Thanks, Tony!”

“Just don’t tell anyone about it!”

“Of course not. We wouldn’t want people to think you actually have a _heart_ , do we?” Darcy ribbed. Tony gave her a crooked smile.

“Nah. I just don’t want to be implicated if this blows up. It would all be your fault.”

She rolled her eyes. “Sure you do. I’ll keep your reputation safe.”

Darcy picked one StarkPad with out of many and brought it over to Tony. He booted the tablet up as the root user and Darcy was pretty sure he uninstalled a crapton of stuff (most of that were probably his own mods too), and locked out some of the features. Other than that, she wasn’t sure what else he did. He typed too fast for her to follow, especially with the haptic interface gloves he had put on _and_ the aerogel keyboard. She was also unfamiliar with many of the actions he was taking (she wasn’t _that_ great a hacker, really). What glimpses she could see or understand was interesting, though, and Darcy didn’t realise how long they stood there until Tony was done.

“Here. There you go.”

“Thanks.”

“Like I said, don’t mention it. If we have some Norse Skynet suddenly loose, I’m naming it after _you_.”

“Very funny, Tony.”

“I know. I surprise myself sometimes.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t stop her grin. After all this time, she should’ve known that there was almost nothing that Tony couldn’t take as a compliment for him.

‘-

“Home sweet home,” Darcy muttered to the empty hallways of the 127th floor, right in front of the door to apartment number 5.

She could find her key, walk in and get some well-deserved break.

 _Or, I could try knocking on door number eight and say I have a StarkPad I need to deliver_. _Dilemma, dilemma._ It was really hard to make up her mind, so she decided to stare at the number five on her door for a few more moments. Maybe her brain had just have had it with all the things sprung on it today and wanted a little break.

“I find it hard to find anything interesting on that plank of wood,” Loki spoke up suddenly from her left.

She swore he appeared out of thin air just because he could. Darcy was startled, yes, but she resolutely _did not_ jump. She counted that as a small victory.

“You can call it a _door_ you know. I’m not taking points off Slytherin for ‘sloppy diction’.”

“Of course you won’t. Your choice of words is all too plebeian.”

She snorted. “Not all of us get our highs by putting down people through sesquipedalian loquaciousness. Pffah, even _that_ was a mouthful. It’s too _boring_ , Rudolph.”

He was giving her an odd look again. It was that long, measuring glance. She rummaged her bag while keeping up her side of the conversation.

“What? Cat got your tongue now?”

“You did that on purpose,” he said, his voice quieter. She acted like she didn’t notice that. It was easy. It was the sort of thing she did all her life.

“Hmm, what’s that? Wait up; I think I almost got your StarkPad. You can download all the books you want to read _here_ , and you have no need to write a program from scratch just to do it.”

“Are we going to have this whole conversation in the hallway, Miss Lewis?”

“It’s a nice hallway, don’t you think? Got character,” she replied with aplomb. “For example, this corner here is dying to tell you all about its life story.”

He rolled his eyes and shot her a look of annoyance that she counted as some sort of win.

“In which case I’ll leave you to ruminate further with the architecture.”

“You wanna go to my place or yours?”

The offer spilled out before she had even thought of his words, but the idea of him just _leaving_ sounded so boring that she simply reacted. She could see that he hadn’t expected her to say that either as he was surprised for a whole second. “Do you even have furniture ready, other than the basics? Let’s just hit my place. We could hit IKEA tomorrow if we have to.”

A small part of her was trying to ask her whether she was _sure_ , and that she really need to rethink what she was doing. A large part of her was saying ‘ _hell yes!_ ’ and sliding her card key through the lock. She remembered belatedly that he didn’t really need to go furniture shopping, did he? Not if he had a whole house stored away in his pocket dimension.

He was watching her curiously from the hallway an unsaid question on his face. She stepped inside and opened the door really wide and waited.

“Welcome to Casa Lewis! Yeah, yeah, I know it’s a dive compared to your palace, but I don’t care. It’s cool enough for me. Coming?”

He moved and soon she closed the door behind them. Her apartment was smaller than Jane’s, with only one bedroom. The living room was big enough for her purpose, because she could have a sitting area plus TV _and_ a writing desk off to one side without one section intruding into the other. She supposed even Jane’s common areas were a little bit bigger, but hey, she really didn’t care. The fact that she had a floor-to-ceiling window on a part of the wall that displayed the skyline before her topped _everything_.

 _All hail Tony Stark_ , she thought idly. _Really_.

She unbuttoned her jacket and hung it on the wall before dropping her bag right next to the couch. Darcy was a little self-conscious about her tank top for one second before she decided to ignore it.

“Hey! No colour-changing the furniture,” she admonished him.

Loki had just done his magic thing on her couch and she disagreed. She liked that couch. _Well, it wasn’t as luxurious as Loki’s couch, but we can’t all be the handmade furniture of outer space princes, can we?_ She absentmindedly patted the couch, just to assure the poor thing of her preference. _There, there, no need to feel inadequate—I like you just the way you are, promise!_

“It’s _purple_ ,” he said from his seat. There was a sort of indignity that made her think he’d bring her couch to court for Crimes against Good Taste. She was offended for her poor furniture’s sake.

“What had purple ever done to you?” Darcy asked, disbelieving.

“What had purple ever done for _you?_ ” He retorted. Damn, she thought, he was not as easily thrown off by her randomness as most people.

“It’s a nice royal colour. The couch deserves to wear my colours for all the times it’s been a loyal and faithful. It’s completely reliable on movie marathon nights, I’ll have you know! I’ve never woken up with bad aches,” She defended. Loki was completely unimpressed.

“ _Really?_ I’m sure it could be just as loyal in green.”

“ _No_. It would be loyal _to you_. I’m concerned with having turncoat furniture in my apartment. You keep your green couches in your apartment, and _I_ get to keep purple couches in mine, capiche?” Darcy wandered back to her fridge, trying to do a quick inventory. “What would you like to drink? I have some cheap wine and… milk. Yeah, the milk is good if you want that. Or… juice? This one happened to be cranberry and some other stuffs.”

That was actually because of Jane. Darcy was too used shopping for both of them that she didn’t even think twice about buying it, forgetting for a while that they lived in separate apartments now, or wasn’t currently on the road (where Darcy would _definitely_ do the food shopping most of the times by default. No offence to Jane, but she wanted to be sure that they had all the foods on the list, not just parts of it).

“The wine would be acceptable.”

“Great. Let’s have that and…” Darcy decided to go for the juice. “Juice. Okay.”

She brought the glasses and the bottles in one trip by the careful placement of fingers.

“You do not wish to get intoxicated?” He asked.

“I wish to drink this juice before it goes bad,” she said. “I bought it by mistake, you see? So why not drink it why I have decent company than when I’m alone? That way, it won’t be so bad.”

“I don’t understand why you don’t just throw it away,” he mused. Darcy gasped.

“What? _Throw it away_? No way! I don’t need to waste it,” She insisted, dropping herself to his right. She poured him some wine and poured some juice for herself.

“But you don’t like it,” he stated.

“Well, it’s not my favourite, but I don’t hate it. It has vitamins and everything, so why shouldn’t I drink it? Really, it’s not that bad.” She assured him. She half wondered why her evening ended up with her defending the right of purpleness and the right of cranberry juice to be drunk to the God of Lies _. Oh well, sounds like a pretty swell beginning_.

“You can try it if you want.”

He looked baffled, but she was pretty sure her expression mirrored his. She laughed after another moment of impasse.

“Oh boy. I knew there’d be some culture shock thing, but I didn’t think it’d be this soon or over some _juice_.”

“Culture shock?”

She nodded. “It usually happens in interactions between people who grew up in different cultures or backgrounds. They lived their lives through different assumptions, y’see? Some might be obvious and thus gotten out of the way quickly. Like clothes,” she pointed out to his Middle Ages meet glam rock outfit, and then hers. “Others are subtler and less obvious and they can creep up totally unexpectedly.”

“Ah, you were talking about cultural _dissonance_.” Loki said.

“Yeah, probably,” Darcy replied after a while. “But whatever it’s called, it’s just that; difference in backgrounds leading to different approach or conclusion on something.”

“Like why you won’t throw the juice away?”

There was a teasing lilt to his voice. She rolled her eyes, but smiled anyway. “It’s _food_. Why do I want to throw away perfectly good food, it’s—”

Darcy froze. With surprising clarity she suddenly knew why she couldn’t do it. This wasn’t an Asgardian-Earth culture shock; it was probably his palace background and _hers_. Some of her old friends didn’t get it either. She could never ever throw away perfectly good food for small reasons like she didn’t like it. She _could_ still eat it, after all. It was her childhood, wasn’t it? Just after Dad died and Mom couldn’t work with the same hours she used to now that she’s a single parent of two and she had to change jobs. But it wasn’t enough. They had to make do, and until Mom remarried again for that first time—

“ _Darcy?_ ”

His hand was on her wrist and his touch calmed her down. Sharp eyes met hers and she could see that he was concerned. _Or maybe he’s just very good at pretending to be concerned_ , another part of her opined astutely. She decided not to think about it at all.

“Sorry I zoned out on you. I’ve just remembered again why I don’t throw away food.” Her lips twisted into a bitter smile as she spoke, but she could meet him eye to eye. She wasn’t ashamed of how her mother managed to pull them through and she wasn’t going to hide that.

“Because my family had been poor for a while after Dad died. Going to bed hungry _sucks_. After that experience I could pretty much eat anything and have always thought thrice about wasting food. What about you?”

If _her_ background embarrassed people, it sucks to be those small-minded bastards, then. If he was one of them, she almost _wanted_ him to insult her. It would give her a good reason to tear him a new one and kick him out right now.

Surprisingly, he did not touch her background. His attention wandered to the table. “The royal family have always had a full table. I suppose it has been a fortune that way.” 

He took the glass of wine and placed it into her hands while he took the glass of juice for himself.

“ _Loki—_ ”

In his hand, the liquid changed colour into one identical to hers. She doubted it tasted the same, though. He smirked. “Unlike you miserable mortals, I have my magic.”

“Yeah, yeah; don’t let it get to your head, Magic Man. Still, it’s very handy, _magic_. If there’s anything I envy you for, it would be that. To change things with a wave of my hand.”

“And you would be renowned for it, I’m sure. A sorceress of no little fame,” he answered, but his attention was drifting. She disliked the distance that was growing in his voice again.

“Well, you’re famous for it too, right? Loki the Magnificent? Loki the Fantastic? I bet you’ve got, like, a hundred and one titles because of that.” She drank from her glass.

“There is Loki the Liar and Loki the Trickster.”

There goes his super-polite and super-creepy tone again that this time around reminded her somehow of Cesare Borgia greeting people with all courtesy at Senigallia (before he went ahead to kill and torture the lot of them). _Shit_. Which topic about Asgard has a ‘do not touch’ button regarding Loki’s past? Was it _all_ of it?

“Were they something you could be proud of?” She asked him.

“Is it a title _you_ can be proud of?” He asked back.

 _Yeah_ , she agreed with herself, _probably all of it_. She gave it her best shot. “If it meant that no enemy has been able to outsmart you, sure, why not? _Hail Darcy, the Trickster Goddess_ sounds pretty cool.”

“And would you still be as proud when people shy away from you with fear?”

“Um, why would they? I mean, are they enemies? What do they have to fear from you? You’re like, the _prince_ , right? You look after the interest of Asgard and its people?”

As the last words fell from her lips, Darcy was beginning to be able to draw some conclusions. These were a) Loki’s title as God of Mischief and Lies was probably backed by experience several hundred years long, and b) even his own people feared him for his reputation. But it was odd, because warriors are like soldiers, and people aren’t afraid of them because they’re _obviously_ there to fight enemies. Yet people were afraid of Loki.

_Why?_

He chuckled, and his words were as shadowed as his eyes. “Your naiveté is charming as always. I look forward to the day you will lose it because I am sure, it would not be for a mediocre cause. Oh no. It will be for a most excellent _catastrophe_.”

_That did not sound like a happy event._

“Are you _cursing_ me?” She asked, out of curiosity rather than real fear. His smile was ageless. It was the first time she could actually fathom all the time he had lived through and the weight of his wisdom.

“No, I am _warning_ you, Miss Lewis, because you seem to have no fear of the world’s darkness.”

Oh but she _did_.

“You’re wrong,” she replied. “I have many fears.” She merely controlled them very well or avoided them rigorously.

She could see the spark of curiosity in his eyes. “Really?”

“No living thing has no fear, Loki. Only the ones without their own mind aren’t afraid, like the insane. Even children have their itty-bitty fears.”

“So, why did they fear you?” She asked again, unsure of the answer.

“Some reasons that do not make sense, if things are as you say, where the innocent have nothing to fear from those who seek only to secure the interest of the state.” His voice was as smooth as cut glass.

And then, he waited.

Wasn’t that the catchphrase of the people who downplayed the risks presented by unchecked domestic surveillance? But what stitched-up half crime could not be turned into a full crime when one side has all the records and documents to be mined for ‘evidence’ no matter how coincidental? How does one ensure the principles of those watching? And what sort of change would happen in society where people change their behaviour, even for innocent acts, because of the pervasive fear of being caught doing something unapproved by the state? Or even worse, people who held power over them that they know they could not replace or hold accountable for their actions?

Then concerns of self-preservation would override freedom of action very easily. _Say hello to the Panopticon, citizens_.

Darcy’s eyes widened. _He was a spy_. Even worse, she would bet that he had to do counter-intelligence work, not just intelligence. That would give him responsibility to root out treason in the court at home, not just at some foreign court where he’d be out of sight and out of mind. He will have to find the disloyal and stop the seditious. Hence the fear and wariness of the people around him, because they are never sure about what he would report about them.

He was the watcher in the dark. Her throat closed up on her.

_And here you thought you’ve avoided the worst of the Great Game when you stayed away from SHIELD, didn’t you?_

She was sure he could sense the change coming over her the way sharks scented blood and wild animals detected fear. The shadows seem to gather around him, and then she was half sure he would begin to withdraw from her perception altogether. There was an inkling, a _feeling_ , that if she let him to leave now, she would never see him again.

“Wait!” She took hold of his arm. “Wait, please, tell me. Tell me why it had to be _you_.”

 _Explain_ , she thought. _I need to understand_.

Darcy was sure he was one step away from leaving or just teleporting from her presence, yet something made him stay. She wasn’t sure if it was the desperate grip she kept him at—he could’ve escaped that anytime he wished it.

When he smiled, it showed her a glimpse of pointed teeth and nothing more substantial. “Could you imagine Thor trying to praise a visiting ambassador without actually lying?”

Her lips curved in a poor excuse of a smile. “I think I’ll pass.”

“Exactly,” he said. “But someone still had to do it. What is required is a person of an appropriately high rank to be able to pass unobstructed to many places and with enough skill to have significant odds of succeeding.”

“Alright,” she said slowly, trying to grasp the idea in her mind. “I can understand that the court isn’t automatically safe. There are dangers that could lay there, some people could be plotting against the king and that’s bad.  Like, Game of Thrones _bad_. So there would be a need for someone to watch over it.”

Seriously she did not need a reminder of what happened in Europe’s various courts in history class, or even _current_ international politics. Political instability could easily get worse than an autocracy. This is because at the very least, a dictator stopped open warfare on his turf. People could actually have a _daily life_ , as opposed to ‘maybe we’ll get killed when they pillage and burn’ or ‘maybe we _won’t_ get killed when they pillage and burn’. The dictator is also less trigger-happy to his populace; he doesn’t go on jags of ‘off with their heads!’ more often than the average warlord because he feels more secure in his rule.

It was a sucky life, sure, but it beats playing Russian roulette week every other month or so.

“Who do you report to?” She asked.

He huffed. “Was it not obvious?”

“Hey, different forms of states and governance have different institutions, I’ll have you know! It’s not always obvious who handles what. But let’s just save that for a different night, shall we? From the way you answer, I guess that means you report to the king, am I right?”

Loki nodded slowly.

“But who’s going to make sure that a watcher on the court is going to act in ways that are acceptable to everyone? Like, is there a code of conduct? Or even an ethical committee?”

He blinked. “Why, the king as well, of course.”

Darcy groaned. “And everyone is _absolutely_ fine with that? No conflict of interest or anything?”

He seemed amused for some reason. It was an improvement over his bleak mood, so Darcy continued.

“Look, all rulers have an incentive to _stay_ in their position, right? Because, well, _various reasons_ , from the noble to the selfish. Not to mention that most people are not stupid or selfless enough to let go of power when they have it. Thus the ruler would dislike any dissent, whether that dissent would actually improve society as a whole or not.”

She took a deep breath. “Then, there are the people who _watch_ the court. Let’s call them watchers,” she couldn’t, at this point, call them spies. _Nope. Not now_. “And they mark out people they find to be spreading dissent. If the one making sure they did their job properly was the king, _who would be happier if no one dissented_ , then what’s stopping the king from just punishing all those people without first making sure whether their cause is just or not? What’s stopping the king from telling the watcher _whatever_ he thinks constitutes of dissent that the people in general _might not even agree with?_ ”

“Some people,” Loki said casually, “would use the morality and sense of justice of the king as the reason why he would not be led astray.”

“Fuck the king’s morality and sense of justice!” Darcy ranted. “That’s what they _all_ say, right until the moment before heads started to roll or somebody starts the Spanish Inquisition! _Nobody_ expects the Spanish Inquisition!”

Loki chuckled at that. It was probably more from relief than her being genuinely funny (she was sure he had no idea about Monty Python). What Darcy knew was that she wanted to hear more of it. This was the only explanation as to why she rambled on.

“Seriously though, it’s better to have a roof over your head when it’s sunny than to not have any when it rains. It’s the same principle at work, but in governments. It’s better to have oversight and not need it, than to _not_ have any when you actually do.”

She sighed. He had been observing her very carefully all this time, but she could stare back while talking too. “But from the way you keep _smiling_ as if you’re on to some great big secret, I’m sure there are more complex factors that I haven’t taken into account, right? That it would somehow make sense when you’ve finished telling me about it and it would make me feel stupid and my current idea overly simple. Go on. Have at it.”

He shook his head, his lips turning at the corners. “I will not disagree with your conclusions, Miss Lewis. Perhaps there are will be complicating factors, but I do not think you’re completely wrong.”

“Where did I screw up, then?” She asked.

“Well, the worrying condition that you demonstrated happened when one has a bad king rather than a just one, isn’t it? But unlike Midgardians, Asgardians can choose the best king they are able to and not be worried about who his successor is when he dies, or the successor’s successor. We are closer to immortals in your reckoning than your own lifespans. When the time comes to choose a the next in line, we have all the time we need too.”

 _Seriously?_ She thought. _He wasn’t going to pull some ‘this is beyond your mortal comprehension’ shit?_ He was actually being pretty decent this evening. Well, she wasn’t going to question his good mood and her good luck.

“But people change,” she said.

“It takes significant time before that happens in Asgard, but yes.”

“No, I mean, _people_ change, including kings. At the very least you should have people who watch over him. Or her, if you happen to have a queen.”

“That would be what the Council of Elders is for,” he answered.

“And there wouldn’t happen to be another council or committee to oversee the watcher of the court other than the _King_ , is there? To ensure that due process is followed by the finder of traitors?”

A flicker of something crossed his face, but he didn’t seem to have changed too much from his mildly amused state. “You seem to be overly concerned with that post, Miss Lewis.”

“Because… _check and balance_. Urgh, we are _so_ going to have a long talk about how institutions should balance and watch over each other’s power next time. I mean, if the king decides at one point to not tolerate even productive dissent anymore and then he gets the watcher to assist him in that cause as he picks people off, _everyone else wouldn’t know until too late_. The Council would just be left holding the bag, or worse, imprisoned or dead. It’s just… it’s such a significant risk, isn’t it?”

She took a deep breath. “I mean, why take it?”

He nodded, accepting her arguments and allowing her to go on.

“While we’re on the subject on just kings, it can even be argued that a _bad_ king would certainly need the oversight so we need to have it, and a _good_ king certainly wouldn’t mind one because in the interest of the state it is better to have one, just in case, than not have on and need it. The overwhelming argument still ends up _for_ oversight and _more_ check and balance than nothing much that Asgard seem to have now.”

She sighed. “See? This is why the idea of kingdoms gives me the willies. Give me a republic any day now.”

“And what would you do if the good people of Asgard do not even want one?”

“Nothing,” Darcy answered, noticing his slight surprise. “Getting people’s head off just for that is equally stupid. I don’t suggest going all French Revolution or crazy cuckoo Cromwell over the monarchy—remind me to get you books on that stuff. It’s important make sure that people in power keep each other in check, is all. Heck, even a constitutional monarchy would’ve been fine.”

He was openly smiling at her now and it was brilliant. For a moment she could see him as a young prince, riding in the forest of a young world with barely any concern upon him. Her knees certainly thought it was brilliant too, because if she was standing she had to go find something to lean against since her lungs did not seem to be taking enough oxygen for her, the traitors. She felt lightheaded. She felt _great_.

“You are the first person I’ve talked to that is not content with letting a Just King take the reins of a kingdom by virtue of having faith in his noble character.”

She looked at him as if whoever had said that were rank idiots. Well-meaning idiots, sure, but careless idiots all the same.

“Pffffft, _trust but verify_.”

There was a sparkle in his eyes at that—a common ground, a shared joke.

 “Some at the court will say that you have a distrustful nature and could not see the good in people.”

“And I say that they don’t care enough about the country that they can’t even _consider_ such a small but useful measure should be enacted. Like I said, I’m only doing it for the good of the state, yo.” She rattled off easily. “What, that’s the only ad hominem they’d throw at me? I got a lot of practise in standing up for myself—because who else would?”

“So come on, _bring it_.”

She raised the glass to him in a mock salute before drinking it again, but he accepted it with undue gravity. (How many glasses had she had, again? It was probably only her third).

“Your mind is unexpectedly agile,” he conceded after a while.

She supposed she _could_ mock him about whether the cost of admitting that was tearing a chunk of his soul ( _or manhood—godhood?_ Wait, nevermind, her thoughts just jumped right into the gutter again), but she would be the bigger woman and just take it as personal growth.

“It’s my field of study—you know, political science? It would’ve been sad if I couldn’t at least keep up with you. Actually, it’s not _strictly_ political science—I’m a bit all over the place as a humanities’ hound. My curiosity’s making me a bit unfocused sometimes. I took a lot of history too, actually, more than the minimum needed for enough grounding in political theory.” She also had one or two psychology classes that she got into because her chats with Sarah had intrigued her.

When she graduated, it turned out that she’d taken more classes than was strictly necessary to get a degree just because she had enjoyed learning (it helped that her tuition fees were steeply discounted if not waived altogether due to her…family situation, and that she wasn’t a mediocre student). Of course, she had to make sure she didn’t get sucky lecturers to make sure she wouldn’t be shafted grade-wise and lose some of the discount, but it wasn’t as if lurking in the student forums were _hard_.

Surprise took him. “You are not a stargazer as Thor’s paramour is?”

“Huh? Oh, like _Jane_. I get what you’re asking about. Yes, Jane’s an astrophysicist, or a stargazer, if you want to call it that. _I’m_ not. I couldn’t exactly get a job in my field because, well, have you seen the economy right now? I have no connections in DC and you know how my mouth gets. I don’t think I can appropriately kiss ass when I’m too pissed off to people who underestimate me. If it wasn’t for Jane I guess I’d either be in my mother’s basement or working retail _again._ ”

She tried her best not to sound disappointed. She wasn’t sure if she ‘d succeeded.

“So I stay on as her assistant. It’s not that weird, I do have some skills she need.”

“Yet in truth, you should have gone into statecraft and make the most use of your actual scholarship,” Loki stated it with such simplicity and truth that it took her off-guard. Also, why was he staring at her with such an easy faith in his eyes? As if he never had any doubts as to what she could achieve with what she knew? She almost forgot to breathe.

“ _Statecraft_. I like the sound of that.” She whispered. _Wait, why is she whispering?_

“Such an awful waste,” he said, softly.

Did her heart stutter when he said that? She was pretty sure it did. _Dammit_. And he didn’t even have to promise her the stars, the sun and the moon for that. She couldn’t even fault him for grand gestures or unreasonable claims. It was her own dreams and thoughts that fluttered restlessly in the confines of her chest—a bird that had only now realised that she lived in a cage and was persistently trying to find a way out with its longing of open skies.

‘-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Darcy and Loki finds unexpected common ground between each other. I wonder what happens next...
> 
> For anyone who doesn't mind britpop, this chapter was brought to you mainly by Akeboshi's _Kamisama no Shitauchi_ (this mostly applies to Darcy and Loki's conversations). The chat with Tony is more _Toki no Fune_ from the same artist (a bit on the Irish instrumental side).
> 
>  
> 
> _The Weird and Random Glossary Strikes Back_ :
> 
>  ** _Agent Orange_ :** also known as **Herbicide Orange** , is an herbicide and defoliant (a chemical that causes plants to lose their leaves), it actually consists of two different herbicide compounds (2,4-D and 2,4,5-T) in equal parts. Its danger lies in the fact that the mixture of those two created the highly toxic by-product of dioxin. It can also stay for years in the environment. All these crucial details were missed the first time it was manufactured. 
> 
> The number of veterans dead from the Vietnam war would surge up rapidly if one were to start counting for those who suffered and died later on from illnesses brought about by chemical exposure—people much less heard about. I haven't even gone into detail on how toxic the landscape still is and the rise in birth defects.
> 
>  ** _French Revolution_ :** The more important question is not what happened in the French Revolution, but which French Revolution are you talking about? The history of France just happened to be writ in more blood in its last few centuries than its neighbours.
> 
>  ** _(The) Great Game_ :** (politics, intelligence) Darcy is referring to the espionage as well as the wheeling and dealing backdrop of Rudyard Kipling’s novel Kim (he was also the one given the credit of introducing it to the masses). The Great Game unfolded between British Empire and Russian Empire for Central Asian supremacy roughly from 1813 – 1907 (those are the dates of agreements and treaties ratified). 
> 
> The term continues to be used to describe geopolitical machinations of Great Powers and regional powers (I didn’t have the dates at the top of my head, so I’m cribbing wikipedia here).
> 
>  ** _Oliver Cromwell_ :** Also known as, the guy who traumatised 17th century Britain from leaving monarchy. One of the people who signed the death warrant of King Charles I. A real downer with the habit of banning games, dances and anything remotely fun, he wages a war against entertainment.
> 
>  _ **Senigallia**_ , or Sinigalia, Sinigaglia: The incident is actually referred to by Machiavelli in _Il Prince_. I describe it as the incident where Cesare Borgia decided to backstab a lot of shady people before they could backstab him by luring them to come peacefully under false pretences. He will certainly insist that he is _totally_ justified in giving preemptive payback. I’ll leave it to the readers to decide.


	9. IX. Stories and Sparks (Burn Me down All Night)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The tail end of a long talk. Queendoms. Darcy founds out that she still has her own dreams and Loki saw that easily. The Silvertongue spins a yarn. A culmination of a conversation. Ahem._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Latter half of this chapter is NSFW people! Just putting that out there. One of the chapter's titles could have easily been _Metonymy_ , but let's be honest, this way it's far easier to find its contents through the titles.

### IX. Stories and Sparks (Burn Me down All Night)

If something came up between them now, it would be just like this afternoon when she almost forgot to give him the key, wouldn’t it?

Darcy slapped her palm on her forehead and reached over the arm rest for her bag before pulling Loki’s StarkPad out of it. If he was confused by her act of casually hitting herself, he didn’t say a word.

“Wait, wait, _wait._ I’m going to forget this if I don’t hand it over to you now, so let me get it out of the way first. Here, this is for you. I’ll show you how you can download books here.”

She leaned on him while showing him the library home page, acting like it wasn’t such a big deal that her arms were pressed against his ribs. It was set as the browser’s home page too. On the next tab was an open email account.

“I’ve set up the library account and everything. You search for books over…here. There, you see? A list of the stuff they have with similar titles or themes comes up. You click one and… tada! Book open. Oh, by the way, you see this yellow post-it I leave here? That’s your user id and password, and you can always change your password later. Also, you need an email for that—that’s electronic mail, if you were wondering, mail sent on computers over computer networks. So, I made you an email address. It is _also_ on that post-it. Memorise it and burn it, it’s not exactly rocket science.”

She got him _themagician@stark.net_. See, she actually gave him a decent address. She could be nice.

“Do you have one?” He asked.

Loki took the post-it off, his hand leaning solidly against her before he burned the paper in an instant of green flame. It wasn’t good-natured amusement that she could see in his eyes anymore, but she didn’t know what it was. At the edge of her vision she thought his smile carried a hundred hidden meanings and Darcy was stupefied for a few seconds at how personal it was. _God, I hope he didn’t notice that_.

“Have what?” She managed to mumble out.

“An ‘email’ address.”

She could even hear the quotations around the word. “Yyyeaaah, I do. Sort of.”

He raised a questioning eyebrow. Darcy pretended she didn’t know what he meant. _Urgh, remind me again why I haven’t changed my email?_

_Because it’s a pain in the ass?_

A much more hyper voice piped up. _Why do you care, anyway? It’s not awful at all! It’s_ brilliant! We’re _brilliant!_

She ignored her inner twelve year old.

“What it is, then? Or is it supposed to be a secret from me?” Loki asked, completely unaware of the argument going in her head. Darcy sighed. She couldn’t bring herself to be an asshole to him just because she chose a stupid email address without thinking.

“Well… _darcy_regina@stark.net_.” She mumbled the answer quickly, hoping he wouldn’t wonder about it too much.

He paused a little too long and she grudgingly typed it into his StarkPad. He stared at it for a moment and she hoped he’d just take it as her middle name, maybe her grandmother’s name, or maybe her _godmother’s_ name— never mind that she didn’t even have a godmother. It wasn’t even that obvious. Anything but…

Loki’s smile grew wide with the confidence of one who bought and sold dreams and could recognise one when he saw it. She groaned in pre-emptive embarrassment, hiding her face with her hands.

“Darcy Lewis, stateswoman, who will one day be known as _Queen_ Darcy. Darcy _Regina_. My, _my_. Someone has _ambition_. And here you were, convincing me that kingdoms weren’t the way to go—or were you going to suggest _queendoms_ next?”

His tone was only teasing but she would swear there was a purring edge to his voice. Her libido ran with it in particularly inappropriate directions. She knew her cheeks were turning red.

“It’s something from college, okay? A nickname.”

“You were nicknamed _Queen_ during your years of learning?”

She waited for him to say right to her face how ridiculous it was, but he didn’t. His eyes were weighing her, yes, but it was as if there was some unspoken feat that Darcy was keeping for herself and he wanted to _know_. It wasn’t often that she talked about it because she’d always thought it was useless to relive days that are past. After all, they won’t come back again. The whole remembering thing was just going to make her feel bad or uselessly moping. She took a deep breath and unfolded the memory of those cherished years with care.

But, but, _but_ …he was asking about _her_. A piece of history of how Darcy Lewis was made and he hadn’t even insulted her once. Or looked at her weirdly. Wow. That had got to be a new record.

“ _So_ , there were two of us, y’see? It was me and my best friend who was also my roommate.” She began.

They were both an odd study of contrasts—responsible Sarah with her odd penchant for fairy tales and stories and carefree Darcy with her weird ideas and convictions had clicked as if they were long-lost sisters. For a moment, she thought of the way Sarah would’ve told it: _Once upon a time, there was a girl who met with a like-minded soul and they swore they would change the way the world was ruled…_

“We had this tradition of taking turns to hold dinners in each of our places, but Sarah and I ended up the one holding it most often because it was pretty close to campus. She was also pretty prepared to cover for the dinners when other people moved their turn due to emergencies or plain screwed up scheduling. It helped that she was good at cooking, so most people gladly chipped in for our grocery bills. Most of the time, she did the main course while I did dessert and snacks.”

They had always joked that if all else fail, they could always band together and open a restaurant. Or maybe a café.

“Our apartment sort-of became a second base camp for all the people hanging out, many of them poli-sci majors. People used to joke that when she announced the dinner was in our place that she was holding _court_. It wasn’t that inaccurate because she could get people to follow her ideas and suggestions like nobody else’s business. ”

Darcy sipped her drink for a moment to ease her throat.

“Since Sarah thought I should share the embarrassment if she couldn’t escape it, she insisted _we_ were the ‘Queens of Narnia’ and dragged me into anything ridiculous the kids came up for her. We do kinda look like we’re related, so even when I tried to duck out, everyone picked up on it and _won’t frigging let go_.” She huffed. She had managed to get even for it several times; one of those times was when she got the joker in their group to be nicknamed Jester because he’s ‘the court jester’.

Her friends could be really ridiculous, but the pang she could feel in her chest told her that she missed them all the same. The one she missed the most was her best friend, who was as much of a petite, spitfire brunette with a figure just as great as Darcy’s (they were both curvy; Darcy had the bigger bust though Sarah was closer to the perfect hourglass). Seriously, whenever they went out together, men and not a few women just fell over themselves to approach them.

“There’s a bit more to the story. There were some idiots that ended up getting taught a lesson and we kicked ass, took names and established a reputation not to be messed with, but that’s not important right now. Long story short, the nickname stuck. So… _yeah_. It was like that.” Darcy said.

“ _Darcy Regina_ , is it?” Loki’s voice was light.

She swore she wasn’t going to meet his gaze. She was sure she wasn’t imagining the hilarity he was holding back. “Uh, it’s a really useful nickname for the odd article I sent to the campus newspaper and it wasn’t as obvious as ‘Queen Darcy’ but anyone who knew us knew it was me.”

The laughter did not come, nor did he say anything else and after a while she gave up to turn back to him. He was oddly thoughtful as he stared somewhere into the middle distance. There was a discomfiting knowing look in his eyes when their gaze met again.

“It may have begun as a nickname, but you wore it with pride,” he stated more than asked.

“It’s pretty cool as nicknames go. I could’ve gotten more annoying ones.”

Darcy’s casual shrug didn’t seem to fool Loki the least, especially since she was still avoiding his eyes.

“Some part of you is thrilled by the idea of being queen over your own realm. Isn’t that right?”

If there was any slant to his tone, she would’ve sat up and challenge him to speak plainly of what he was accusing her of, but there _wasn’t_. His voice was too calm, too clear, and he gave her his undivided attention that she had no damn idea about what he was trying to do. It put her on edge. Was he baiting her to make a fool of herself? _Ha! He’d have to wait forever if he wanted to do that_.

For the most part Darcy didn’t have any shame. She refused to be shamed about her background and she refused to be embarrassed by her own ridiculousness. She loved herself as she is.

“Isn’t that right, _Darcy_?” He asked again, still in that same dulcet tone caressing her name and she shivered; all the certainties she had before crumbled easily into confusion. His voice was raising the hairs at the back of her neck with an unsettling feeling of anticipation and a complete lack of fear. She pretended she wasn’t imagining the touch of his breath over the shell of her ear.

She snorted. “As if that wasn’t impossible.”

He smiled. It was sharp, with a flashing edge as bright as the blades she knew he used and yet she could only feel her heart pound harder at that. It was far too mesmerising for her comfort.

“That’s not an answer to my question. You’re avoiding it.” He said.

It earned him a glare. He was still much too calm even after that.

“Who hadn’t thought about stuff like that, anyway? Besides, like I told you, I’m not that good at kissing ass.” She defended.

Darcy hadn’t realised that she’d begun to turn away until she felt his hand under her chin, his touch light. He traced his hands so carefully she might as well be a delicate work of art and it was hard to repress the shiver that ran through her body. She couldn’t look away from his green eyes, now bright and much more alive than it had been in the afternoon, inexorably drawn to her as planets to their sun.

“That’s the point of being a queen, isn’t it? There is no one you’d need to ‘kiss ass’, as you’ve eloquently put it. You would be on top of the world.”

The most annoying thing about Loki, she thought, was how she couldn’t even say that he’d said anything wrong.

She wanted to ask him that she didn’t care about her nickname that much, but what came out was, “Where would I even _find_ a kingdom looking for a queen?”

The question was so childish that it should’ve been mortifying.

Darcy had been unable to stamp out the vestiges of hope from her question and desperately hoped he hadn’t heard it slip. There was the slightest quirk of his lips but it may have been a trick of the light. In any case, it did not seem to matter. His thumb rested lightly over her lips while he wove a story with a voice of night and unsaid wishes to prove true his title of Silvertongue.

“Suppose then, in a kingdom far, far away at the other side of the galaxy, there lived a princess by the name of Darcy. Her mother, the Queen, was old. Her health had worsened and she had no appetite for life since the death of her spouse. This was how she began to trust her children more and more with the affairs of state. The princess may have been the second child, but she shouldered more duties than her firstborn sister, Princess Jane, who was not as interested in statecraft as she is.” His story hit a little too close to home for Darcy for she could still remember how devastated her mother was when her father had died. She and Tory had been frightened for her, as limited as their childish knowledge was.

Looking back, that time still frightened her now.

He let his hand trail away from her cheek to her jaw before going down to her neck, following some line only he could see. She had tilted her head to give him better access before she realised what she was doing.

“As time goes by, the Princess Jane relinquished more and more of the responsibility for she was more interested in being a Stargazer than a Queen. In the end, Princess Darcy might as well have been Queen.”

Darcy narrowed her eyes. “I wouldn’t take away Jane’s birthright if I was the princess.”

“You wouldn’t, would you? Such kindness and lack of envy for someone set aside.” ” His tone was almost mocking. Almost. It was more bitter than anything and only made her unsure as to how to react.

“Yet there was still a world of difference between Princess and Queen, even for Acting Queens. There are things that she cannot enact promptly without referring to her lady mother. It was a fragile situation. When the Queen fell ill, heartsick and bedridden from the grief her Consort’s death, the kingdom clamoured for the preparation of a coronation.”

“There was a problem. Everyone expected Princess Jane to be chosen to be Queen.”

“Chosen?” Darcy asked.

“It was the way of the kingdom; for there are no guarantees that the firstborn will be the most suited to rule. The Queen and the Court will weigh in on the princesses and princes as candidates equally—at least that’s what they _say_. Of course with only two candidates right now, it was a moot point. Princess Jane was well-known and well-loved as the firstborn—a spitting image of the beautiful Queen and that was a sign for them. Because _of course_ beauty is extremely important in choosing a queen—can’t have an ugly one, can we? A fair queen _must_ be a good queen.”

He was sarcastic. She couldn’t even argue that he was wrong there.

“Where Princess Darcy was reckless, Princess Jane was demure. Where Princess Darcy was brash and outspoken—”

Darcy rolled her eyes. “Crass, you mean?”

“—Princess Jane was gentle and kind.” A ghost of a smile flirted on his face, but he didn’t reply her question. It disappeared soon enough as he continued speaking.

“Besides, why would the Court wish for Princess Darcy when it would be much easier to ratify laws to many a noble’s interest with Princess Jane on the throne? She was not untrained, yet she did not have her sister’s keen eye or distinct interest in understanding people’s baser natures when unwatched. Give them an inch and they’d take an ell. So the people wished for Princess Jane and the nobles wished the same.

He stared her down, his voice lowered.

“Barely anyone wanted Princess Darcy to be Queen.”

It was odd—she knew it was just a story, but the feeling of being overlooked was familiar to Darcy. Her chest tightened at the thought and she couldn’t find any words to say to show that his words couldn’t hurt her. Her old insecurity reared its ugly head and she had to take a deep breath and a few moments to herself to wrestle it to submission. She wasn’t sure whether Loki realised he had been tapping on her sternum as he told the story. It seemed to be more of an unconscious tic than anything and it wasn’t as if she really minded. Her hand had landed above his knee from who-knows-when and he hadn’t said a word about it.

“The Princess Jane became Queen Jane and Princess Darcy stayed a princess. The kingdom languished in a few decades as mediocrity sets in, but that wasn’t important, was it? The people are happy, the nobles are happy, and they live happily in their mediocrity ever after—at least until a trade agreement or negotiations on peace break down due to inexpertise or carelessness and everything went down in flames. Sooner or later, the kingdom falls. _The End_.” There was a particularly black cheer to his retelling.

“That’s not how you tell a story!” Darcy complained. She could see that her annoyance amused him. “What sort of story is that, anyway? It doesn’t have a happily ever after!”

“Real life does not always lend itself to ‘happily ever afters’, especially if the princess chose to do nothing.” His voice was even and strangely sympathetic. Hearing him say that was more painful than she thought it would be.

“I wouldn’t do nothing! If it was me, I’d help Jane with all that crap you mentioned and she’d let me because she _knows_ she doesn’t like those stuff and isn’t any good at it anyway. Jane could sit on the throne and it would mostly be me who’s dealing with the political side.”

“Running the country,” he said, while caressing her side. She retaliated by walking her hand up his thigh. She saw his throat momentarily tighten when she did that, but he was too stubborn to move away.

(Or perhaps, just like her, he did not want to move away but would prefer not to admit it).

“Whatever you call it.” She replied.

“All of the responsibility and none of the respect.” He said.

She rolled her eyes, pretending he was not cupping the outside of her breasts and that she wasn’t leaning forward to him, showing her magnificent cleavage under her tank top. When he glanced down, it was more than just for a passing moment—she could see it in the way his eyes widened and the way he lost his train of thought for three seconds afterwards. _Nope, not thinking_.

“Who cares? I’d be doing it because I love it, not because I want people to bow and scrape to me—that sort of respect isn’t real, anyway.”

That pulled his attention back to her and he stared at her with disbelief.

“You would rather take the condescension of the court?”

“Not really, I’d give ‘em hell if anyone gets too annoying. I just wouldn’t care about them. The people I care about _would_ respect me. Jane would know what I did.”

He lifted her and moved her closer without effort—it happened too fast that she didn’t even have any time to be surprised or outraged. Now, she might as well be sitting over his lap, there was something she definitely could grind against and her thoughts were losing coherence. His hands followed the underside of her breasts with a delicacy that surprised her. _Definitely better than hormonal frat boys_ , she thought. The downside of it was that it drove her nuts; it was enjoyable and yet not nearly enough. She glided her hands over his chest to get even.

“The dutiful sister,” he said, again with that slight mocking overtones that she couldn’t mind when his words were tickling her neck. “Who will continue to be relied upon but will not receive enough thanks for it. She will be constantly underestimated. Queen Jane found the prince of her dreams and they will have a courtship that captured the interest of the kingdom because she found a prince just as _bright_ and _fair_. She will get married, she will continue to lean on her sister and as time goes by, she will take her sister for granted.”

Loki raised his head and there was too much truth in his green eyes for her comfort, but he stopped her from looking away by touching his forehead to hers for a while.

“The princess’ dedication to the kingdom meant that she’d rarely have time for herself and her lack of popularity will not have changed; for all anyone could see was just a princess instead of a queen. In the end, she would die _alone_. Unremembered.”

“She still has her friends and family,” Darcy defended, not caring if her voice had less conviction that it did before especially as she shifted in her seat and rubbed her clit just right. _Seriously I can’t stop thinking about what he’s packing_.

“She’d have her sister, her nieces and nephews.”

“But she would not have a family to call her own, because she was too clever to have fallen for a fortune hunter and without enough time of her own to socialise. All she’d have would be her sister’s family.”

“She’d have her close friends, no matter how few,” she rallied. He gave a most put-upon sigh, as if he couldn’t believe how ridiculous her answer was and she tried to pretend she could still think while he was palming her left breast and yet judiciously avoiding the peak. She felt she should complain about it—she was pretty sure he could do better.

“ _Friends_ , she says.” He muttered.

Darcy retaliated by using her nails to skitter over his nipple through cloth.

“ _Friends_ ,” she insisted. Because she felt braver than before with his dark eyes on her, vexed enough to wish to eat her, she asked back.

“Well _you’re_ here, aren’t you? I can live with that.”

He stilled. The very air around them seemed to hang in balance. As unnerving as it was, she did not avoid his sharp gaze on her. She let him try to take her apart, let him see her for who she is.

“Is that what I am now? _A friend_?”

She rolled her eyes but shuffled closer, her left hand making itself comfortable on the back of his neck, pretending she did not wish it was her mouth that was there, tasting the salt of his skin. Darcy could almost hear the unsaid statement of how he doesn’t have friends along with the question. “ _Yes_ , you’re my friend, though I’m not sure whether I’m yours.”

“I was given to believe that it is a mutual endeavour.”

His eyes fluttered close for a few seconds as her fingers slid into his hair. Darcy held her breath for a second to keep herself in control as the urge to kiss him became a physical force of its own. She had never seen him at peace, but for a moment she saw that he was content.

For some reason it broke her heart to know that he rarely felt that way.

“Yes, but I might just be your kinda-friend, or sorta-friend instead of friend-friend.” Darcy answered.

He was making that weird face most people did when they have no idea what she was spouting though she was aware he was distracted by her mouth for a while now. She gave up.

“Who the hell cares, Loki? And here I thought you weren’t the sort of person who’d give a damn about what other people say. If I want to be your friend, _I will_. If you want to, you can. It’s that simple. If you think I’m not _yet_ your friend-friend and only a sorta-friend, well, I’m okay with that too—”

He stopped her with a kiss, a confection of exasperation and lust for the hypnotic movements of her red, red lips. It started as a thoughtless impulse, but she melted against him and what was a passing fancy became something real and tangible with the taste of breath-warmed skin. His eyeteeth grazed the outer shell of her ear when he asked her a question and she gasped at the simple pleasure it gave her, clinging to his neck.

“Can a friend do this?” He asked, curious.

“ _Yes_ ,” she replied, before replacing her hand with her mouth, sucking right above his jugular.

She rubbed herself against him and it drew a sound that was purely _male_ and it made her weak at the knees. The flammable hunger that had never left them flared into a bonfire with her greedy caresses. Darcy straddled him as they stole the air from each other’s gasps. He nibbled her neck, his tongue swirling down, down, _down_ , sucking on her nipple through the cloth and she grew increasingly lightheaded with bliss. She pulled out the tunic that had annoyed her.

“Newsflash: earth clothes are _much_ easier to open,” she said, when she had a breath to spare.

Apparently he took that as a request because it suddenly disappeared. Darcy made up for lost time by touching every inch of him that she could, voracious hands mapping by touch what she had always stared at clothed, musing what it would feel to take what was underneath them with her lips. She felt the sudden rush of air on her skin when Loki had vanished her shirt. He worked her bra with a flourish and her breasts swung free. She threw it away to who-know-where.

_He really_ is _a magician_ , she thought, impressed. Quickly discarding it, she dragged her panties down.

A whimper escaped her when he sucked her bare breast. _Finally!_ It was unexpectedly cool and only made the sensation more acute; her nipples stood up in no time.

“ _Friends_?”

Usually, she’d have a problem with that smirk of his, but she didn’t care if he was putting his mouth to good use. “Very. _Good_. Friends.”

That seemed to satisfy him. Their dusky tips disappeared in his mouth in turns, pulling whimpers out of her with every nip and suck. Her fingers weren’t idle; she made lazy touches on his sides, circling his stomach and when she lulled him into complacency she darted quickly downwards and firmly _stroked_.

He jerked in her hands and bit down on her shoulder, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure down her spine with a dash of pain. She positioned herself just right to slide her opening down the length of his groin, dangling the promise of release with her. She had to bite down a gasp herself.

“ _Darcy_ ,” he warned.

“Bed. _Now_.”

He obliged. In that dizzying wash of colours she’d seen before, she was dropped on her back on the bed with Loki holding himself over her. He watched her through half-lidded eyes like a predator. With every turn of his gaze she her skin was burning up. His left hand was holding her right hand above her.

She just had to ask. “Enjoying the view?”

His only answer was a smirk, before his fingers carefully following the curve of her breasts, and then his tongue completed their trail. Slowly, languorously increasing the sensitivity of her skin until the slightest sigh over it made her shiver. He went lower to her stomach and casually trailed up again, leaving frustrating sparks that went nowhere. She tried to pull him down with her left hand but he only budged a little. The anticipation was almost a physical _ache_ over the pleasure. _What happened to the straight down and dirty kisses in the lab?_

“ _Loki_ ,” she whined.

“ _Yes_?”

He was too damn smug for his own good. Darcy narrowed her eyes, turned on _and_ annoyed beyond belief. It was a good thing she took all those yoga classes. _Two can play this game_. She curled her stomach, raised her legs and hitched them behind his waist. She then ground her hips against his, feeling the length of him rubbing against her wet seam but not quite entering. There was an explosion of heat from their point of contact, delicious, unbearable heat.

Victory was hers, but she closed her eyes for just _one moment_ and took the chance. He pounced, she squeaked, and all her thoughts were scattered into the night as his lips claimed hers once more and they fell on the bed. Even his kisses had more bites than she was used to. Yet he delivered them with a counterpoint of pleasure that and made the pleasure sharper, _keener_ , and she couldn’t get enough. They chased each other’s kisses across their bodies, teeth and tongues playing tag. Darcy surrendered into the sensations, and he sunk himself into the scent of her skin. When he licked a line going up from her knee, she wondered how many people realised how beautiful Loki was, of lithe limbs and clever fingers and even cleverer tongue.

She would give every inch of her for him to peruse if he had always gazed at her like that before he sunk his teeth; a carnal priestess most divine. A hickey she could be proud of graced her left hip and she unconsciously curled towards him when he teased the skin there. He watched the muscles in her thigh flex, the way her body come alive with his touch with a flattering single-mindedness. Loki placed both of her ankles over his shoulders and paused slightly, an unsaid question in his eyes.

Her reply came quickly. “ _Yes_.”

His entrance was a shock to her senses. It was not merely a matter of girth but technique. She gasped, curving her spine and pressing herself firmer to him in the process. The sensation of being so close and surrounded completely thrummed her nerves to her toes, her mind buzzing alight. If the harshness of his breathing was any indication, he was no better off.

The pause they took was only for a fleeting moment before they picked up speed.

The pace they set did not begin gently. But it wasn’t important. Darcy was beyond caring for gentle. She wanted to feel all of him and she felt she hadn’t had enough. She _needed_ more or she was going mad with want.

The drive was in her hands and on her tongue.

“ _Please,_ Loki, _faster_.” They were lost in their increasingly shallow breaths. “Oh god, oh god ohgod, _yes!_ More, _more_ …”

“Such,” he kissed her, “a greedy,” another kiss, “ _vixen_.”

She took the last kiss herself, without his prompting. She gave credence to his words and drank from his lips with the thirst of a desert traveller (and made him buck harder in the process).

“Complaining?”

“ _No._ ”

It was a most emphatic no, done in time with a deep push that made her forget her name for a second. It was alright because she was content on screaming his, anyway. She would have continued to repeat it, if he hadn’t been trying to drink her soul from her kisses.

Her mind turned blinding white from the edges and sent her soaring. They came closely after each other.

‘-

Darcy’s consciousness trickled back into fore as she snuggled into the warmth that was embracing her. She vaguely noted that it was _maybe_ morning, and she wasn’t in the mood to wake up yet. The arms around her seem to be of the same opinion as she was pulled back, as was the nose to the back of her neck and Darcy became the small spoon once more.

She was a lot more comfortable than she had any right to be.

_Loki?_

She opened her eyes wide with that realisation, huffing quietly. _Were you surprised?_ She asked herself. No, no she wasn’t. She’d been fully prepared to have sex with him during the day, and she just followed that to its logical conclusion. It was just that she hadn’t gotten around to imagining the morning after. And because her mouth doesn’t take orders from her brain, she had begun saying something before she realised it.

“We should get out to find some breakfast.”

Something that sounded close to ‘not _now_ ’ was mumbled in the vicinity of her shoulder blades, along with bad-tempered nips, and she giggled slightly from the sensation. _Not a morning person, is he?_

Jane was on the second day of her break, and Darcy had promised that she won’t come in if Jane’s not coming in, so it wasn’t as if there was anywhere she had to be in today. She could just decide to sleep in. Darcy shifted her hips back and thought she had just hit something.

…she could also have lazy morning sex on the bed.

She smiled. That last idea didn’t sound so bad. She only had to start grinding her backside a little before she felt open mouthed kisses placed over her shoulder. One of his hands had gone southward from her waist, casually slipping inside her and curled. She pressed herself backwards even harder, trying to get him to somehow find a better position.

Her wish was fulfilled when he raised her leg, and she was facing a more _interesting_ predicament right before her entrance.

‘-

They were still a tangle of blankets and naked bodies for a while (blankets, plural, because she learned her lesson of only having one blanket around from the time her bed partner was a blanket hog). The second time Darcy tried to get out of bed, arms dragged her back in. If she wasn’t a morning person, then Loki must’ve been nocturnal altogether. He was a _nocturnal octopus_ , Darcy concluded. It would explain his persistence in staying in bed and her inability to actually escape grabby arms.

“Loki…”

“Is it necessary for you to be anywhere else, _right now_?” He opened a bleary eye, his voice was roughened by sleep and it was actually more shiver-inducing than usual. _Dammit. You have to be strong, Darce. You have a greater purpose to fulfil!_

“Well, um, the bathroom?”

Those magic words allowed her to be free, blanket-clad. Even then, it was not without some grumbling.

When she went back to bed, his tousled hair was so adorable that she had to bite her lip to stop herself from making incoherent high pitched noises. She took some pictures on her iPhone. _It is never going anywhere but my iPhone, with a password_. He saw her tinkering with her phone when he opened his eyes, but she wasn’t sure that he had cottoned on to what she’d done.

“Are you sure you don’t want to eat yet?” She asked him.

Darcy eeped. That, on the other hand, seemed to be the magic words to get her pulled once more onto the bed.

“Oh, come on! This is already—”

Her complaints died away into a sigh when he kissed her slowly and thoroughly.

‘-

“So, about breakfast,” Darcy had just finished making coffee. “Or I suppose, _lunch_.”

She should’ve known that if there was anything that could get him out of bed, it would be the scent of the heavenly brew. She hadn’t been able to find any of her clothes and decided to humour him by wearing his tunic (she had her suspicions, of course). She tied it at the waist with some random belt she found hanging. 

He walked out of her room with only his trousers on, distracting her with his bare chest. She was already getting into the habit of ignoring the bracelets (cuffs) on his arms. His muscles may not be huge, but they were well-formed (she didn’t like huge, anyway). Darcy can even recall the times when certain bite marks were added to his torso last night. Even remembering them now brought a smile on her face.

She could see the moment he saw her, because he started stalking her way without caring about what was in his way. She saw the coffee table _move_ to make way for him, and the couch edged away in a contraction she wasn’t sure how to explain, other than it bobbed in and out like a balloon filled with water. Darcy swallowed nervously.

“Coffee?”

“I think I’ve just found something more delicious.”

_Damn. The man sure could purr_. She folded her hands in front of her chest. This was the wrong move. (Or was it the right move?) His eyes were automatically glued there and she could see his Adam apple bob.

“Just make sure my clothes aren’t permanently gone,” she said.

“These ones seem to suit you just fine.”

Her face was heating up under his gaze. “Loki!”

“Done.”

She wasn’t quite sure what he had done with that hand wave of his and couldn’t think about it. Not when he was nuzzling her neck, and cradling her hips comfortably. One of his hands was reaching under the tunic and she held her breath in anticipation. The hum in his throat informed her that he was pleased to have found her bare ass. He looked more than pleased; he was ecstatic.

“You’ve planned this,” he stated, caught between appreciation and wonder especially when his middle finger found her wet folds and she gasped at his touch. Darcy smirked. He was not the only mastermind in the apartment.

“You know, the counter over there looks very sturdy. We can never be sure just by looking, though. It needs to be tested.”

She shouldn’t be this happy to see his grin turn wicked.

“We?”

 “ _We_.” Darcy nodded firmly.

“As my lady commands.”

‘-

They ended up ordering delivery that day.

‘-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another possible title is _Fairytales as Foreplay_ , but the current one wins out. I might update next week, but I might not manage and only do so in the week after that—needed to go over at the grandparents' since the aunt that lived nearby would be visiting her in-laws.
> 
> So, I have no idea how I did because it's been years since I wrote any smut at length. In fact, I tried my damnedest not to have the scene be necessary but the characters won't let me so I gave in. (If it's that bad, just try to put me down quickly; it's like mercy for a feral dog with terminal rabies).


	10. X. Morning Debates (Tie Me up All Day)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Conversations with Loki don’t proceed forward as much as they go sideways. Luckily, Darcy is good at rolling with the punches and crabwalking. She pulls off an ambush. Loki mounts a counterattack. Also; that escalated quickly._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to admit that I'm turning my guilty pleasure into text form here. My brain candy is either an entertaining battle of wits or smut. This chapter has both. I hope you had as much fun reading as I did writing it.
> 
> Warnings: Light bondage.

### X. Morning Debates (Tie Me up All Day)

In the next morning, Darcy remembered that this was supposed to be the third day of Jane’s consecutive break. She had doubts that her boss would be able to stay out of the lab today—not unless Thor manage to pull her to Disneyland. She wanted to come around, see what Jane’s checking, making sure that Jane wasn’t doing anything she wasn’t supposed to (actually working on her project), kick Jane out of the lab, and then she could go back to bed.

This also happens to be the second morning that her bed actually had _Loki_ in it.

She was still a bit confused on that last bit.

If anyone asked her about what’s going on, she’s going to tell them to get back later. Not that it wasn’t great; the sex was mind-blowing. But she never thought it would be enough reason for the God of Mischief to hang around…? Nevermind. She was overthinking it. There was definitely nothing wrong with having a new friends-with-benefits arrangement when both parties are clearly _happy_ to do so. If he had any problems with it, he could scram. No one’s holding him back.

_Let’s not borrow trouble, Darce_.

He was certainly not shy in expressing his complete agreement on that front, and made sure he heard her assent _vocally_. Darcy sat up, stretched and got down from the bed.

…only to fail when she tripped on Loki’s legs, and he took it to himself to reel her back.

“Need to get to the lab,” she murmured into his shoulder with a sigh. _An Asgardian with this much muscle on him shouldn’t be so comfy to hug…_

“Back to your job, then?”

She sighed. His lips were tickling her ear. “Nah. Just checking up to make sure Jane doesn’t end up doing more work than she’s supposed to. I’d get back after that. Going to hang around or off somewhere else?”

Darcy was going to ask ‘ _going off for work?’_ But that was creepily domestic and she’d just scared the crap out of herself as well. ‘Sides, she could imagine that he was more skittish than a fox in a hunt.

“Wait, never mind. I guess you know how to let yourself in with teleports if you want to drop in anyway. So…yeah, you could do that if you want to, I’m fine with that.”

_Better to stick with an open door policy_.

“I haven’t even answered your question,” he said, amused.

“I sort of forgot it wasn’t my business,” she said easily. She could tell he was impressed by the way his hands on her waist were suddenly more purposeful in their grip, encircling her. “As long as you don’t hurt anyone, why should I poke my nose into your business so much?”

He tensed slightly before he continued to make curlicues on her back.

“You’re not, are you?” She asked.

“Would I tell, if I did? Whatever I do, it is certainly more convenient for me to tell you that I have no ill intentions, isn’t it?” His voice was perfectly calm when he spoke, with that mesmerising cadence she would never tire of.

“Whoa, good point,” she replied. A small grin was on her face.

She’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop since yesterday. She was weirded out how they’d slipped into their new arrangements with each other _so well_. It was like a fucking fairytale ending—and Darcy never believed in those. _If someone promises a perfect life, they’re selling you something_ was her principle.

His word games just restored normalcy to her morning.

“Let me see if I can ask a better question, then,” Darcy said, rolling farther to lie on her stomach so she could see him.

“Would you be trying to kill or harm the Avengers? We’re not talking about them attacking you and you defending here but an actual active plan against them.”

“You have the answer to that already.” He looked bored. She had a feeling it wasn’t real, but he could very well be bored thirty minutes in the future, so it wasn’t inaccurate either.

“You’re not planning anything against the Avengers because you’re still my guest? No, that’s not the _only_ factor; you didn’t plan to end up here, did you? This is… a detour from wherever you think you were going to be today, a month ago. You didn’t plan for this shit.” She clapped her hands together with glee. “Aha! I’m right! No, you can’t hide that smirk from me, I saw it already. I _know_ I’m right.”

“If you knew, why do you need to ask?”

“Trust, but verify,” she repeated.

She didn’t know why he looked so pleased that she knew how to ask the right questions. His arrogant smile exuded the sort of confidence and power that a lot of politicians would sell their mothers for. Darcy liked the way his hair showed slight waves—it was different from the perfectly groomed impression he liked to give.

For her, it showed that he wasn’t as obsessed at keeping control over _everything_ right now.

“You aren’t curious?” He asked.

She shrugged. “I do. Then again, I want to know _everything_ about everyone, because hey, I don’t really care about keeping my stuffs secret that much. But I know that’s not fair—it’s just how I’ve always been like. So, there’s this thing called ‘reasonable expectation of privacy’ that I could believe in. That’s what I use as boundaries of my snooping on other people.” He was still running his right hand up and down her bare back, which was nice, but raised some questions. Like, what was she to him, a _cat_?

“You can tell me if you want, but you’re under no obligation to,” she finished. His hand was getting a little too focused on her hips and the swell of her ass, but she could ignore the distraction for now.

“On a lighter note,” she said, “I was wondering why I didn’t end up making out with you in full view of the Avengers.”

He was unamused. “Do you _want_ to get shot?”

Darcy faltered. “They won’t shoot you when they can accidentally get me, right?”

“I don’t believe they would accept any reason I can give them. There is also the issue that under those conditions, the only way I could get out of the place in one piece is if I use you as a hostage, and it is not a good plan to use with these on hand.” He replied.

Loki displayed both of his wrists to her. She cringed at the bracelets (cuffs) on his lower arms. Yeah. She kept forgetting that. Damn, she had almost become and actual hostage chick. Not cool.

“What now? Do you want to hide us fucking each other?” She could see him wince at her crassness. “Because honestly, dude? I don’t care. It was annoying to have to sidestep Jane’s curiosity, but I could do it if you have a good reason to.”

Because he’s _Loki_ , he caught on to the things she didn’t say quickly.

“What’s the bad reason to?”

“Because you don’t want to be caught banging the ‘lowly mortal’ since you’re a great Asgardian and all that supremacist shit.”

His eyebrows rose. She gave him her best intimidating look. “Well? Is that an issue? Because if you diss my species, I’m bailing right now. Thanks for the great sex we’ve had and all that jazz, but you’re not getting more.”

“’Great sex’, is it?”

“You’re not going to distract me that easily. Come on, gimme some answers.”

Loki’s hand spanned almost the entire back of her waist and pulled her right next to him again. It was a possessive gesture that was shorting her breath without regard of what her higher brain functions wanted. His lips were next to her ear and she could feel the vibrations of his chest when he spoke. “What if I still think your species deserve to be ruled by an emperor who knew how to guide them?”

“You’re not answering the question,” Darcy said, as calmly as she could manage when all she wanted to do was kiss the life out of him. _Down, girl! Humanity first!_ “Let me paraphrase it for you; do you think we’re ants? Not fit for you to bother with? Mayflies? Insert insect of your choice here?”

“If I say I do?”

His lips were skimming her cheek now and she had to grab his wrist and glared. He was unapologetic.

“Then one of your statements is _wrong_. You’re contradicting yourself,” she relished his expression of surprise. “If we are ants, then you are a shepherd or a farmer, _not_ an emperor. You can’t be emperor of beings with lower intelligence than you. Even if I have a hundred thousand cows and a million miles of square land in the middle of nowhere, I wouldn’t start calling myself Queen of Darcyland—people would die laughing themselves to death _by the thousands_ if they ever heard of the Cow Queen.”

“ _Darcyland?_ I think Lewisheim is better.”

“Seriously, Loki, _that’s_ what you choose to focus on?” She whipped her head around and saw that he was actually grinning. She sighed and dropped her head on the bed.

“So, you either consider us as ants, and you want to be Farmer McDonald in boondocks Midgard, _or_ you consider us as worthy beings in our own right—and that’s why you think it’s worth being the Emperor of Earth. Now, which one is it?” She challenged.

“Maybe I always want to have a farm?” He said, idly.

_Loki just couldn’t help being an ass, could he?_ It was weird how she found it endearing than annoying. Darcy couldn’t help but grin at the first scent of victory. At first, she only wanted him to admit that he _did_ consider humans to be intellectually capable, but if he was going to go around doing it the more painful way, she wasn’t going to say no to it. _And there he goes, hook, line and sinker_.

She gave him a million watt smile. “Go ahead. Call us chattel, I dare you. If you do, I’m going to call you _Ze Horsefucker_.”

The look on Loki’s face when he realised he’d been had was _priceless_.

“You,” he stopped, too shocked to even be outraged. “I can’t believe you just—”

She pitched her voice to go higher by an octave; trying to go for ‘brainless trophy wife’ while she slowly moved away from him. “What do you want to name you first child, Honey? Oh wait, I almost forgot—we already have a name, don’t we? _Sleipnir—_ ”

She ran out of his arms before he can catch her and gave him her best neigh, pulling a blanket around her while doing so. Darcy laughed all the way out of the room as he gave chase.

“You’re going to pay for casting aspersions on my person, Miss Lewis.” His voice was dark with the promise of retribution, especially when he was staring at her like he could eat her alive. It shouldn’t make that heat at the bottom of her belly to spread so easily, but there it was.

“Oooh, I’ve been a bad, _bad_ girl, Loki,” she sing-songed as she ran around the couch. “What are you going to do about it?”

“I have a few ideas.” He replied.

“Really?” She made sure there were always the coffee table and the couch between them. Every time he moved, she moved. “Like what?”

“There is that fine collection of silk ropes you have,” Loki’s eyes were like deep, dark waters.

“What will be your safe words, _Darcy_?”

A full body tremor ran over her, followed by a flush of heat. She wanted him to tell her all he wanted to do to her with that voice. Darcy had almost forgotten that part of yesterday when he opened the drawers next to her bed out of curiosity and found them. It had been a while since they were used. _I was_ so _on the money about the BDSM potential_.

“’Data Entry’ for stop,” she said without thinking. She gasped and covered her hand with her mouth in surprise.

He chuckled. It was a wonderful sound.

 “Oh _my_. And here I thought you were saying you enjoy your work just the other day.”

“Um. That’s _not_ my work, thanks, not anymore. We just don’t have interns right now and it falls to me again,” she babbled. He had an amused smile on his face. It was doing things to her concentration when he was casually walking around her apartment buck naked with his dark hair dishevelled looking as pleased as sin. She forgot that she was trying to escape him. When her feet caught up with her head and tried to run to the kitchen, it was too late.

He caught her in a tackle, expertly rolling them so that he was under her and he bore the brunt of the fall while he cushioned her. Darcy was trapped in his arms like a netted mermaid within the blanket. She wasn’t sure that he realised his hand was gently stroking her hair. Was it bad that she’d never felt as secure when held as she did right then?

“ _Caught you_.”

Loki said this into the skin of her neck, right above her pulse. She shivered when his tongue flicked over skin.

He carried her as if she weighed nothing, walking to the bedroom and her heart beat faster. He dropped her on the bed—she hadn’t managed to disentangle herself from the blanket when she could feel her arms being pulled above her by an unseen force. The smooth ropes circled her wrist on their own.

Last time she checked, she was pretty sure she didn’t have a metal ring on the wall above her headboard (hey, no complaints from her here), but that was where her hands hung, nonetheless. She was getting really annoyed about the blanket, though, because she hadn’t had time to pull it off her. _I can’t see a damn thing_.

Luckily, Loki seems to be of one mind and she could the fabric being pulled away. Soon enough, she could see him once more.  A devil-may-care grin was on his face. His whole being radiated the cool confidence of one who has a plan, and whose backup plans have backup plans.

“It would seem that I have a most interesting prey in my clutches.”

Darcy tried not to get lost in his eyes because, _damn_ , he might be hotter than the sun, but she didn’t want to let him have his victory easily. This meant a counterattack. Her palms sweat as she handled her nervousness. She hadn’t done this in a while but she could still remember her sub voice.

“What are you going to do with me now, _Master_?” It was sultry and soft where she was usually forward, and as any of her exes would admit it _hit all the right spots_.

He froze, and she could see that he used all of his experience to hold back from taking her right then. A part of her was disappointed, but it was a very small part. A larger part was intrigued, lured by the forceful control he had over his body. _Oh, he’s very good at this_.

“Master, hmm?”

“You _did_ catch me,” she said simply, starting to get in the zone as her mind took note of the external cues.

“I would like to unwrap my catch first,” he replied.

Loki uncovered her ankles first and slowly revealed more of her legs. He stopped short of her upper thighs. 

“I want to know how you taste.”

Her nether regions throbbed at that. She restrained her comment of ‘oh but you already know’ into a watchful curiosity. He lifted her left leg and nipped her ankle. It startled her. He licked his way up her calf and sucked the soft skin behind her knee. She bit her lip but a whimper escaped her anyway.

“Oh, you _like_ that.”

“I wouldn’t know,” she said pertly, “Master _Loki_. Do you think it’s good for me?”

It would seem that her use of the title and his name went straight to his cock. Darcy took religious note of that and swore to use it judiciously.

“It would be up to me, is it?” He asked.

“Yes, Master Loki.” she breathed out. Definitely on purpose.

That had him instantly going down to suck on her inner thigh. She jerked forward in combination of surprise and arousal, only to have him backing away after that, a thoughtful look on his face. _Oh, come on!_

Then his hands came to play. They stroked the skin of her thighs with a very light pressure, only skimming on the inner sides. Every time she moved herself closer, he pulled himself away by just the right amount. It was maddening, but she could stand it. She was sure she felt the tip of a _nail_ skitter over her slit, or an errant brush there, but nothing else.

This time she _did_ whimper. He met her eyes and ran exactly one finger over her opening, its tip getting wet with her fluids. It felt so good that it was embarrassing, her thighs closing around his hand before she realised it.

“Ah, _no_ ,” he said with a wag of his finger.

“No?”

“No,” he answered. His actions explained his thoughts better as he spread her legs apart as far as he felt she could comfortably go (and she could go quite far). With a flourish of his hands, more ropes wound around her ankles from the sides of the bed, holding them down.

Her centre was on display in front of him like a ripe fruit and he was certainly eyeing it like one.

“Much _better_. A work of art should be exhibited.”

A part of her was experiencing embarrassment and her skin was tinged with red right now. Another was getting impossibly turned on, especially as he lowered his head once more and gave her an open-mouthed kiss on her lower lips. His tongue darted into the slit at times and his teeth lightly scraped her clit. He wrung one helpless moan from her after another, especially once he deigned to go deeper. Just when she was getting close to _something_ , he withdrew.

“Hmmm, _no_. I don’t think this is working either,” he said casually.

“ _What?_ ” She yelped. Darcy was pretty sure she wasn’t imagining the humour in his eyes.

The ropes on her ankles loosened and fell away.

“One perfect strike,” was his cryptic reply as he lifted her by the waist and set her on all fours on the bed. She could get used to that position, but apparently it wasn’t his plan because he kept adjusting.  Her shoulders went down, elbows resting on the bed. Her ass went higher in the air, and he even placed pillows to support her thighs; all to follow an idea he had in his head.

Her only warning were his hands on her waist, before he entered her to the hilt, balls deep. Her vision whited out in a single gasp.

The jolt of pleasure shocked her senses, especially when he kept a bracing speed and nothing else mattered. The screams she could manage were incoherent, especially when he combined every thrust with a tweak of her clit. She couldn’t remember when she came that violently, or when she last came before a guy. When he came, it cascaded with hers and she rode a second high.

She wasn’t complaining when he pulled her to lie on her back because her limbs felt like jelly.

Suddenly she could feel her wrists being restrained above her again with Loki between her legs. There was something hard pressing against her thigh.

“Nod twice if you still remember the safe word, Dearling.”

She nodded, a little confused. She could feel him placing a pillow under her lower back, raising her hips. They were still on the edge of the bed.

“Good. Because I’m not done punishing you.”

Loki braced his hands on her hips and entered her once more. The angle was just as deep but _different_ and she couldn’t help but arch with need, meeting his movements as he pounded her aggressively. Her skin was still sensitised and her nerves still raw and the latest assault on her senses overloaded her with pleasure. It wasn’t long before she flew right over the edge once more.

‘-

It was one o’clock when Darcy finished bathing.

She managed to open her creaking bathroom door and lock herself inside (her last resort at avoiding temptation because bathing would be the last thing in her mind if Loki ever joined her). Even then, she had to spend at least ten minutes to take a cold shower. There was no argument that a turtleneck had to be a part of her outfit if she didn’t want to display what she’d been doing to the whole world (or even more critically, make people wonder about _who_ she’d been doing). She was sore at all the right places and was determined to drop in at the lab. Her bed had been made when she walked out, with silky green sheets. Yesterday, she was about to change them when Loki did it for her without a word once he realised what she was doing. She certainly wasn’t complaining about the insanely high thread count so tolerated them being green.

(In fact, she received the pile of plush pillows with open arms—she had coveted them since the server room).

He was on the couch, reading the book she’d seen him hold before and she forced herself to keep her eyes on his face—if her imagination drifted _the slightest bit_ , she wasn’t going to go out her apartment. Again. His other hand was tossing two toy balls in the air. How he could juggle with one hand, without looking, she had no idea.

_Well, this looks familiar_.

 She also reminded herself to show him modern outfits soon, as he was back in his Asgardian getup. But of course, the downside was that she’d be tempted to take them off more often, especially if they were easier to take off…

“So, how do you think I should break it to Jane? ‘Yo, Janey, you know Loki, right? The guy you thought was dead? Well, I’m banging him.’”

He had winced at some point mid-sentence, probably because it wasn’t as sophisticated as he would say it.

“I would have thought you’d prefer other people not know.” Loki said.

She frowned. “Why? I’m not ashamed of you.”

Loki seemed to be suddenly interested in the minute details of her face while she was trying hard not to fall too far into his gaze. What he was looking for, she wasn’t sure, but she was beset by the urge to start poking at her cheeks and chin. _Do I have a zit?_

“I would quote your own word on me: I am a killer of your people.” He’d caught the two balls he was juggling. He was using that hypnotically calm voice again that some people might sloppily call heartless. Perhaps that was one of its uses too; to just disengage himself from everything.

“A person would think your morality is finer than that. Most people certainly would.”

“You _were_ a killer. _Were_ ,’ Darcy emphasised, taking care to breathe in and out regularly. _Gad, he’s going to be difficult about this, isn’t he?_ Not that he didn’t have a point—he made a _very_ good point. It was just that Darcy hadn’t been one to follow what most people think if she disagreed with them, and she wasn’t going to start. He did not answer her directly.

“I still am. I would not hesitate to kill those who set out to kill me.”

“Um, no. Because if _that’s_ the measure you’d use, the Avengers would’ve been merely killers too and I know that you know the label doesn’t work like that. The world’s pretty complex.”

“Some would want to interrogate you, to find out if you are compromised.” He pointed out. “Fury would gladly place you in a cell so his agents can pick your secrets apart at their leisure, layer by layer.”

“Fury doesn’t have clout in Stark Industries. In the Avengers, maybe, but not in a civilian company,” she said quickly. Never mind that the Avengers Initiative was SHIELD’s brainchild and was actually an ongoing collaboration. SHIELD agents with the right pass could freely come and go on many floors, she knew. But she wasn’t a SHIELD agent or an Avenger and she hadn’t done anything wrong, right? _Right?_ Darcy tried not to show how it worried her, but she was sure he’d seen it already.

He raised an eyebrow. “Would you like to bet on it?”

She was sure Tony wouldn’t just stand by and do nothing. She was sure that Pepper would care too.

“Actually, yeah. I’ll take it.”

Loki made a put-upon sigh as if she’d been testing his patience all this time and he’d been forbearing. She ignored it with ease. “Besides, it would be so very _boring_ , wouldn’t it?”

“What?”

“If they _had_ to find out about it at all, why not arrange to be caught _in flagrante delicto_? Give them a lesson worth talking about. As I recall, ropes suits you.”

There was the promise of something else in the sentence and Darcy found herself turning beet red. He wanted to give them a _show_? Not that she was an exhibitionist, but if he was wearing his full leather outfit and…

…hot damn.

“I’ll… I’ll just drop in the lab first before we continue this conversation, okay?”

Loki returned to his book with a shrug. She ignored the knowing smirk on his face. Darcy had to give him credit for being able to derail a topic so readily. _Maybe it wasn’t as much as his skill as how far into the gutter your head is in_ , a part of her snarked.

_Oh shut up. I don’t see you complaining when we’re doing him_.

‘-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update is coming up in two weeks after this one. It's unfortunate, but I'm losing my spare time as it is. Currently mired in endless extended family visits and paying respects to the various patresfamilias & matresfamilias.
> 
> Author Announcement: With this chapter, we're halfway through Part I (which has twenty chapters). Part I is already done, btw. From the way I'm drafting the main arcs, the story doesn't look like it could be done in anything less than Part III (I've only now begun on Part II). There's still a long, _long_ way for the story to go. I've edited in the Part I title as well as the chapter titles in the previous updates.
> 
> I find it difficult to decide whether I'm actually ambitious or merely masochistic. 「(°ヘ°)
> 
>    
>  More Odds and Ends:
> 
> _If someone promises a perfect life, they’re selling you something_ : Variations on this theme can be found everywhere. I swear I didn’t even think about this when I wrote it, but even Princess Bride has one: **_“Life_ is _Pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something.”_**


	11. XI. The Multitude (Points of View)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _An interlude with Loki’s perspective. Darcy and Tony finds out some worrying stuff. Pepper is pulled into it. Plans are developed._

### XI. The Multitude (Points of View)

After Loki was sure the mortal woman had left her apartment and was not going to return soon, his poise collapsed completely. It had taken a lot of effort on his part not to coax her back to the bed. She was too tempting, with her ripe lips and bountiful curves and unparalleled eagerness. He could still smell her on himself, the blossom of gardenia over ocean sprays. Yet at the same time, there was no doubt that he needed some time to think as well. He lay on his back on the couch, a hand pinching his nose as he tried to figure out what the Hel happened in the last few days.

He was captured. It was certainly a miscalculation on his part, but he could appease his self-esteem by pointing out that it was an insanely overpowered trap with a Midgardian artefact that was surprisingly older than him. They had to partially bleed the lifeblood of a whole city for the time it was active, disrupting the lives of the citizens there, causing minor chaos and discontent. That was how he knew it hadn’t been set for him at all.

The other was the disappointed face of the sorcerer that had monitored the artefact’s opening to see their catch. Loki had almost been offended. He was a great catch, _thank you very much_. The only way it could be more embarrassing was if Thor’s band of misfits contributed more to his capture than the magic user he hadn’t seen before.

Compared to that, the cell he was tied to and the cuffs they keep him in were still very much within his capabilities to break; even now he could stretch its limits, leak more and more of his magic out. To his surprise, the ground and building wards was on a completely different level and intelligently linked to the _genius loci_. He was not aware that Midgardians were still in touch with their land spirits, or how the one here wasn’t dormant even with the obvious over-reliance on machines in this area. Still, what he could not break with force, he could certainly circumvent with guile and it would not be the first time he did so. With the right tools and materials and timing, he would be a free man once more. It merely took time to gather them.

Not that it had been reassuring at all to know that there was something roaming Midgard that warranted such defence, but he was glad that it was loose on _Midgard_ and not roaming anywhere else.

He had enough trouble brewing on the horizon.

_And what are you doing instead? You meet the first woman you could find who welcomed you with open arms and you indulged yourself, repeatedly. Where is that self-control that you pride yourself on? How different are you from Thor?_

The fingers of his right hand flexed out to summon his knives on reflex until he remembered his magic was still chained down, particularly anything remotely offensive. He couldn’t even begin throwing them to help him think and that vexed him. On the other hand, it removed the temptation he had at times to draw a line on his forearm and watch the blood slowly drip down in mesmerizing swirls. Not on the artery, though, he wasn’t suicidal.

His smile was grim and with not a little amount of self-loathing. _At least, not anymore._ Now, it was stark utility that drove him to do it.

So, he was caught, and when he was relieved from the sarcophagus they had some lowly serfs question him because apparently the Avengers were too _busy_ to see him. They asked imbecilic questions. Boredom calcified his mind after the third day and he gave them the answer to the questions they’re asking after toying with them for only a while. The deluded fools never even realised that those weren’t the questions whose answers they want but never even tried asking him about it—why should _he_ make their jobs easier? Fortunately, before he was bored enough to make a random attempt at escape, Thor came to accompany one of them.

Unfortunately, he was just as deluded as the previous fools, in a different way.

He kept asking why Loki was on Midgard, what he was planning _on_ Midgard, _against_ Midgard, and as he answered Thor’s questions without lies and merely a little wordplay, it took all of his patience and control not to scream that Midgard was not worth more than a shovel of manure in mother’s garden. _For one who claimed to care about Asgard, what have you done for it recently, Thor? You’re much busier playing house here_ , he would’ve mocked.

If it wasn’t for his mother…

His left hand had summoned the child’s ball he had been fiddling with for a while now. He settled into throwing and catching that.

_And yet you found yourself a wench_.

Loki shook his head. As easy as it was to rage against his imprisonment or the situation he had found himself in, it was not that simple. He was no longer a callow youth so eager to throw blame to the parties nearest to him. _Darcy Lewis_ was not simple. He came to Lady Jane’s study with the intent to rile Thor and found her instead. When she noticed him, her fear was palpable in the air even without magic to sense them, but it did not stop her from offering him hospitality.

He did not know why she did not withdraw it when he challenged her to, only that her stubbornness was stronger than even her own fear. It was the best explanation he could come up with as to why she so easily called him a _friend_.

_A killer_ , she’d said, her candour felled him with the weight of frank judgment and she’d stayed as unaffected as the eye of the storm. She spoke of the truth she’d seen but he had yet to see her fit him into some mould or ideal. She did not take it as her right to praise him, or to absolve him, or to rage at him, or to inflict pain at him.

That was why he couldn’t help but listen.

Darcy may have found it agreeable to herself to lay with him, but there was no doubt that she saw him as who he is. If he was a worse man than she’d seen until now, she may as well leave as she had threatened before; why she hadn’t left yet was a mystery for another day. He was beginning to get used to the headaches that thinking about her apparent contradictions usually generate.

Even with her quirks and idiosyncrasies (and hoyden brashness and vulgar language), she had the qualities of Frigga’s best handmaidens. He could easily see her as one of the few weavers allowed to work on the ever-changing weave of all that might be, what has come to past as well as those that failed to come at all. She might have learned how to work the spinning wheel under his mother’s tutelage. He wondered why Thor had not seen her potential and chose Jane instead.

She gifted him with the truth without even realising its worth. She showed him the choices he _did_ have but somehow hadn’t seen. Yet after all that, she walked away without asking for anything, unconcerned for anything more complicated than simply enjoying his company. No matter how simple and frank she appeared, there was an inquisitive mind underneath. She had courage enough to shame any warrior and an unwavering generosity that tempered it. She met all his challenges and questions without a doubt.

He did not wish to release himself from her company.

“Why am I even thinking about this?” He asked out loud. Because in the end, it did not matter. There were things he needed to do elsewhere and he will still leave.

There was time, though. Right now, he had to wait for the morning or evening star’s next conjunction before he would take his leave of Thor’s ragtag band. It would not matter even if he could get all the materials he needed by next week. Once he succeeded, let them make of it what they wish. He had more important things to deal with than the fretting of mortals. For the time being he was settled comfortably here and he could even indulge his curiosity to see whether the Midgardians have written something interesting by now.

It might even give him an inspiration for the current little problem he was facing.

‘-

When Darcy arrived, Jane was in the labs. A few questions told her that her boss had arrived more than two hours ago ‘just to check up on things’ and that she hadn’t even noticed the hours passing. Darcy bundled Jane away again after she pointed out the clock. Jane agreed easily this time, because she hadn’t planned to stay for that long in the first place, and out she went. With that settled, Darcy was prepared to go back and enjoy her break. Should she check if Loki wanted to explore the tower some more? Why is she suddenly acting like his guide, anyway? _Am I being too clingy?_

Darcy sighed. She didn’t think she was being unusual—she just thought that he didn’t exactly have anyone else she could imagine he’d want to spend time with. _What if he just wanted to be alone?_

Well, he could just say that to her face, couldn’t he? It couldn’t hurt to just ask him if he wanted to join her on…hmm, she didn’t exactly have a plan yet. Oh well. She could figure it out as she went along.

Then, the lab doors opened.

Tony strode into the lab with the force of a hurricane. He was in a business suit, better dressed than Don Draper himself, and she could see that he had his game face on. It wasn’t his eccentric billionaire lazy glance, the one that said ‘I can buy and sell you with the spare change in my pocket’. It wasn’t his ‘captains of industry’ face he went to boardroom meetings with either, especially when the ~~murders and executions~~ mergers and acquisitions option was on the table.

This was one rarely seen in the media.

“What’s up Tin Man?” Darcy asked.

“Need some intel here, Dorothy.” He smiled and it was one for the tabloids, but his body language held carefully coiled tension. She tried to keep herself relaxed and not escalate the worry. It wasn’t easy.

“’Sup, Bro?”

“Do you actually have a list of the books Reindeer Games wanted?”

 “Yeah, I do.” She said simply. “Why?”

“So you knew that _Vom Krieg_ was on it?”

Darcy’s eyebrows rose up. “What? Is that one of the German titles? Because I don’t speak German.”

Knowing vocab pieces really doesn’t count as knowing the language.

“That’s what I thought.” He said this so grimly that she gave him her full attention. “Maybe the name of Carl von Clausewitz would be more familiar to you?”

Wait, she knew what _Krieg_ was. War, wasn’t it? And she definitely knew Clausewitz. The book Tony was talking about was Clausewitz’s _On War_ , and something inside Darcy faltered as the tension between them grew. Darcy sat down on her computer and opened the library’s page. Tony went around the desk to see her monitor.

“It says it’s military philosophy,” Darcy muttered, but doubt still grew in her voice even with that knowledge. He nodded.

“Yeah, like Sun Tzu’s _Art of War_ , which I would bet is also on the list.”

She had a vision of an armoured figure in green at the head of an invading army, exactly like the SHIELD recordings she’d managed to copy from the SI database. Was Loki planning _another_ invasion? Right underneath their noses? There was an odd pang of betrayal inside her, but she had to remind herself that for all his being an ass, Loki had never actually lied or promised her _anything_. Maybe it was just her pride, because she’d been sure she understood what he was and it wasn’t what other people thought.

Tony could see the worry on Darcy’s face and he took pity on her enough to explain. “I’m not worried about thosebooks—I’ve read them and they’re far from being a military manual. You should read the _Art of War_ sometimes. It’s fun.”

His smile faded. “Y’see, what _I’m_ worried about the books I _don’t_ know. I need to find those out.”

For a moment, Darcy was concerned about something else as she wondered how Tony even figured out what Loki was looking for. She swivelled on her chair. “You’re spying on everyone here?”

He rolled his eyes. “No, there are flagged keywords of every search in the intranet.”

“And what about the browsing data everyone accumulates? Plaintext?” Darcy asked. Tony stared at her with incredulity. He was almost affronted.

“The data are aggregated, anonimised and encrypted and I salt _all_ the passwords—you _do_ know that not even all e-banking sites do that, right? Only Jarvis knows who’s actually looking for what and he doesn’t even keep the secure stuff like passwords himself or the hash functions. Plus, even if he can access them, no one can pull it out of him without the right reason.”

Darcy was impressed. “You mean, the right query?”

“No, I mean the right _reason_ ,” Tony said with a confident grin. “He’s an AI, _not_ dumb silicon. I didn’t force-feed him Asimov’s Law of Robotics, but I made sure he damn well developed a morality of his own.”

“You must be so proud of him, _Dad_.”

He leaned closer with a mock whisper. “Yeah, but if I say it too often, it would get to his head.”

Darcy laughed. Tony casually continued. “We also destroy personal browsing data once they’re older than a year and everything else but the basic bio when someone leaves SI. That secure enough for you?”

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the smug look he had but had to acknowledge that he knew what he was talking about. She raised her hands in mock-surrender.

“That’s very impressive, Boss-man.”

He pouted. It was still too cute for his own good. “You’re breaking my heart here. I can’t believe you just challenged _Tony Stark_ on security protocols.”

She smiled back. “Never doubted your competence, Tony, just worried about your intentions.”

“Hey, I only screw people who’s asking me to screw them, and they have to stand in line for that privilege. Don’t mistake me for _some_ people.”

She laughed. “And what about those supervillains?”

“They’re asking me to screw them when they hit the civilians.”

Darcy logged in with Loki’s ID, praying that he hadn’t changed the password. It would turn out that he didn’t even bother to do that and she breathed out a sigh of relief. She checked the last search history and didn’t find anything suspicious and logged out, turning around to face Tony fully.

“The thing is, I added additional keywords to flag for that StarkPad I gave you.” Tony said, his voice level.

“Like war,” Darcy said casually, too casually.

“Yep. And nuclear. He didn’t even try for anything like that or anything close to the Manhattan Project, though.”

Darcy blew some hair out of her face, relaxing by a fraction. She grinned even when she could still feel the rapid beating of her heart, her mind trying to come up with possibilities and each of them was worse than the previous one. She kept her voice light through all this.

“You sound _soooo_ disappointed, Tony.”

“I know. It makes me feel weird, you know? Being wrong? A first in a decade! Maybe I should bask in the novelty of it for a while, get a tan while I’m at it.” He said. She chuckled, wondering how long it took him to cultivate the art of making people want to punch him within a minute of talking to him. A bigger part of her was smiling _and_ facepalming.

“Yet you’re here anyway,” Darcy said.

“Yeah, I’m here,” Tony said, looking painfully sober and not quite happy about it. “I’m not going to beat around the bush anymore. Do you have that list?”

She sighed. “I do.”

Darcy knew she had no good reason not to spill the beans on Loki to Tony because she didn’t have any proof that he wasn’t going to harm them, other than her own instincts and his profession of debt of being her guest as she had freely taken him as a host. _Trust but verify_ , she had said _. Well, being tight-lipped about this is_ so _not going to fly under that_ , she thought cynically. Tony’s voice was sympathetic.

“Kid, look at me. If I did what I usually do when I freaked out, SHIELD would’ve known about this since _yesterday_ , but my gut feeling tells me to trust you, and I’m doing that. That’s why I’m the one asking you. I, for one, don’t really care about what he’s reading since he’s not hitting the majority of the flags, but this Tower is my _home_. Pepper _lives here_ , despite all my efforts to tell her not to.”

Darcy could feel her palms going a little damp. She was in over her head. This was one thing she could be certain of when the Tony Stark himself was speaking seriously to her, didn’t even remember to act like he was checking her out and actually allowed her to actually glimpse where his heart lay.

She wondered if this was the man Pepper Potts saw and not the world.

“Darcy, I can’t _not_ ask you about this,” Tony pleaded. “You understand, right?”

“Promise me that you won’t tell SHIELD if you don’t find anything and keep it a secret,” Darcy rushed.

Tony shrugged. “Sure.”

She rummaged around her bag and pulled the rolled parchment out. Tony whistled at it. Somehow, it managed to not get any crease at all either, or knowing Loki and Asgardians, probably magic paper. “They don’t do subtle around there, do they?” He asked.

“That’s what their printer uses, actually. _Parchment_ ,” Darcy replied. He stared at her in shock.

“They have _printers_?”

She could see the gears of his mind turning—he would _love_ to take apart such a device the second he got it and he’d kiss anyone gifting him one. “Can I ask Rain Man for a printer? A gift for his good buddy Tony? I could trade him for a year’s stock of poptarts, in all the flavours he’d want.”

Darcy shook her head and destroyed Tony’s daydreams. “I’m not sure _Thor_ uses them.”

“ _What_? How could he _not?_ Why on earth does he look like he’s stuck in magic space _middle ages_?” Tony asked in disbelief, unrolling the scroll in hand. She shrugged, but couldn’t hold back the grin on her face.

“I know that _Loki_ does because he’s a magician from over the rainbow—and Thor _isn’t_. Y’know, Clarke’s Law?”

“And you saw him printing it?” He asked, intrigued.

“I didn’t see it. I saw him tap the orders out in his floating AsgardPad, which had this exact same list on, same font, font size and all that crap—I suspect his ‘printer’ is in his personal pocket dimension. It could totes be a magical quill copying stuff word for word to a parchment _a la_ Harry Potter.”

Tony scanned past lines and lines of titles and authors without breaking the conversation. “If _this_ is what you find out in a few days when those interrogators get a whole lot of nothing, I’m inviting you out to the Avengers’ shawarma times. Maybe on a regular basis.”

Darcy froze. She wasn’t sure if she should be excited or terrified. “Err, thanks, but I’m just an assistant.”

Tony snorted. “Keep saying that and maybe you’ll believe it. Because I don’t.”

She had no idea what she could say to that. Keep repeating that she was an assistant? How does one break the delusion of someone of Tony Stark’s calibre? She only had Loki’s reading list because she helped him and she’d worn him down after he was probably bored out of his wits trying to code an app on the go. _I don’t have his bucket list of ‘shit I plan on doing’!_

“So, do you have this stuff in softcopy? I’m thinkin’ of showing this to Pepper. Seems more like her field than mine.”

“No, I don’t,” Darcy said, and she saw him deflate. It had been her habit for a while for anything she didn’t want to risk getting hacked. Either put an air gap on important data or don’t keep it in soft copy altogether. It didn’t mean she kept _nothing_ , though.

“But I did photocopy it. Y’know, just in case.”

Tony’s eyes light up at that.

Darcy sighed and retrieved it from her bag. “Tony, I know this is hard to believe, but he’s…”

She took a deep breath. What was he to her, really? _A friend_ , she’d said that. But should one ever have to choose between the safety of the people around them and their friend? Tony had actually been honest with her about why he was so worked up over this. The least she could do was come clean to him about her reasons.

“He’s a jerkass and believe me _I know_. I’ve had conversations with the guy, remember? But as weird as it is, he’s not _just_ that and he’s also a friend of sorts.” She ignored the disbelieving look that Tony sent him, even as it changed into something more subtle and less recognisable. “I don’t want to screw with him just on the basis of ‘suspicions’ instead of actual proof. If we find out that he wants to attack earth, sure, jail him, but otherwise? I’m respecting his privacy. We’re only showing this to Pepper for now until we get new information.”

She had the feeling that he wasn’t someone who trusted other people easily and she was flattered that he did trust her—she wasn’t going to waste that.

Darcy held her hand out for him. Tony took it with a firm hand shake.

“Sure. You get yourself a deal.”

He strode out of the room with the same forceful strides. Darcy was just picking up her bag to go back to her apartment when she heard Tony call out to her from the doorway.

“What are you waiting for, Lewis? A written invitation?”

“ _What?_ ” She gaped.

“Let’s go to see Pepper, what else? What, you thought I’d go off without you?”

“Well, yeah, I mean—”

“Nope. You have a good head on your shoulders and _somehow_ managed to find out more stuff on Reindeer Games than anyone could predict. We can’t _not_ include you.”

‘-

Finding Pepper Potts was not difficult because it turned out that she’d been looking for them; specifically, Tony. Darcy could see how his whole being lit up when he saw her.

“Pepper! Just the person I’m looking for,” he made an exaggerated move to hug her and she stepped out of his way with speed and ease. Tony pouted. The redhead was unaffected.

“Isn’t that convenient? Because I’ve been looking for you too, _Mr. Stark,_ ” She used his last name like a reprimand and for all Tony’s smoothness, Darcy didn’t miss his split-second wince. Pepper’s voice turned firm, “In fact, Auditing was also looking for you. You are aware that there was a meeting that you missed?”

“I had to cancel. There was a matter of national security that needs handling.”

He was the very image of insouciance with his hands in his pockets. Pepper merely raised an eyebrow.

“Natasha hadn’t said anything about any new missions to me.”

“Of course not, I wasn’t running a mission with her. You don’t expect me to actually blab top secret details to people without the clearance for it, do you?” Tony continued.

Pepper’s lips quirked up on the left. “You do it all the time, Tony. I hear you mumbling them in your sleep…and talking about it at breakfast.”

“I got Fury to upgrade your clearance,” he said easily. Pepper was blindsided.

“Tony! That is _really_ unnecessary—”

“It is completely necessary. Potts, have I told you lately how you kept me sane in a world gone crazy? Because you do. You’re my life.”

His last statement was no longer showmanship—it just _was_. The simple honesty stood unadorned by the well-known Stark flavour of bravado that he projected in most public affairs.

When he turned to Pepper, the love in his gaze was so unguarded and bare that Darcy felt like a voyeur.

Pepper Potts shed her professionalism like a coat in a powder room, took three strides, and hugged him. He pulled her tighter into his arms and the brunette could see what he meant by his words; she was his rock. They held each other for a moment or two. Darcy would’ve been less worried if they weren’t in the middle of a frickin’ corridor, but she couldn’t bring herself to interfere.

Pepper was the one who pulled away first and Tony reluctantly let her go.

“What happened?” She asked him.

He sighed, scratching the back of his head. “Long story, Potts. Let’s get somewhere else so Velma here could tell you about our current mystery.”

‘-

They ended up in a booth table at the coffee shop in the second library. The booth did not seem to be one that was accessible to the general public, as it was in the far back, and Darcy thought she could see lines and lines of glyphs from some dead language around the perimeter and walls. She remembered about Dr. Strange’s recommended adjustments to Stark Tower. A crooning singer echoed the golden age of swing in her voice and filled the spaces of their silence. Darcy let Tony take the lead in the explanations while Pepper listened to him while scanning the book list copy. She’d only interjected once or twice during the explanation.

“I know this isn’t going to make a lot of sense to either of you guys, but I don’t think he’s going to attack the Avengers or anything. It wasn’t his plan—unless you believe that he planned on getting _caught_.” _Whatever his original plan was, it involved that cup and they’ve moved it somewhere else, haven’t they?_

“I’m not putting anything past Reindeer Games, yet,” Tony said.

Darcy sighed. “Yeah, I know you don’t—and I don’t blame you. I just have to put my two cents in.”

Pepper lowered the stapled papers with a thoughtful look. “I don’t know, Tony. I think what she said made sense.”

“What?”

“ _What?!_ ”

“You think he’s not trying to pull something over us?” Tony asked. Pepper shook her head.

“Of course not. Now _that_ doesn’t sound like him at all.” She shook her head “No, I don’t think that his plan, whatever it is, is going to be as simple as just an attack. _If_ he was up to something—and I’m not saying he is, we still don’t know enough—it wouldn’t be anything short term. You don’t read up on governance and institution building if your aim is destruction,” Pepper finished.

A stunned silence followed her. Stark Industries infamously unflappable CEO smiled at her audience.

“What _is_ he planning?” Tony asked.

Pepper shrugged, a lot calmer than Darcy herself would’ve managed. “I have no idea.”

“This might just be a trick to get us to let our guards down,” Tony fired back.

The redhead slid her fingers around her cup in thought. “It doesn’t make that much sense. This list doesn’t distract us enough from focusing on him—if he wanted us lulled into a feeling of complacency, he would’ve given Darcy a list of literary books. Fiction, drama, the history of earth, maybe. It raises a lot less flags than one on politics and is still natural for someone with limited mobility to be interested in.”

Tony groaned.

“Maybe he did that on purpose to confuse us?”

An amused smile rose on Pepper’s face. “Tony, not everything everyone does has to be about _you_.”

Darcy couldn’t help a small laughter from escaping, even as she gasped and closed her mouth immediately. Pepper was still amused while Tony continued to grumble as before.

“I think even Loki would take issue with that,” Darcy said.

“Well if he’s not coming clean with us, I’m booting him out. That’s it. We give him a chance to explain and it’s not our fault if he didn’t take it. There is no way that I’d be biting my nails down, wondering what he’s trying to pull when the shit will hit the fan.” Tony stated.

Darcy straightened up. “You mean…”

“Yep. He’s going straight to SHIELD.” Tony said.

“ _No_.” Darcy cut in.

Across the table, Pepper and Tony turned to her and she faltered for a second. They were still larger-than-life figures for her, after all. Tony was incredulous while Pepper was harder to read. She had her professional face on and was as attentive as she was implacable.

“Kid, I know you feel like you’re his friend—”

“It’s not that, Tony,” she shook her head, bypassing his attempts at sympathy or calming her down. For the first time in months Darcy was very sure about what she was talking about. She could hold her own against Tony frickin’ Stark if it comes to it.

“I wouldn’t have minded if he was actually arrested, with the prospect of facing a trial to determine his guilt and everything over court. If he ends up jailed for two hundred years, so be it. But SHIELD? _Give me break_. Once he’d passed the doors of government black ops, who knows where he’d end up to and what sort of punishment he’d receive? Or what would be done to him?”

Darcy’s gaze grew hard.

“Because _of course_ SHIELD has _so many_ alien test subjects for _invasive_ medical studies. _Not_.”

The tension in the room was palpable as the two of them held their standoff. It was broken when Tony groaned and slouched back on the couch. He ran both of his hands repeatedly through his hair, sometimes yanking them, until Pepper carefully pulled his hands down.

“I _hate_ being part of the good guys. Some days, I wish I’m just the playboy billionaire, you know? Living the fun and fast life.”

“Nobody would know if you ignore it. They’d expect it, actually.” Pepper said, sipping her tea. Darcy was too surprised at how casual she’d said it to say anything.

“I would if I could, but I _can’t_ ,” Tony grumbled.

There was something gentler in Pepper’s eyes. “It’s not _can’t_ , Tony, it’s _won’t_. That’s something completely different. It means you’re a good man.”

“I just…” Tony trailed away, seeing two hopeful looks aimed at him.

“Oh _alright_ , Ladies, you win. It is completely unfair to expect a man to ignore such looks from two beauties, okay? I hope you’re happy you’ve blackmailed me into letting our errant princeling to stay.”

Darcy was still thinking, even as he groused. The Tower had been Tony’s place before it became the Avengers’ and was dragged into the mire that is Asgardian ruling family drama, and it was still his _home_. Even _she_ couldn’t fully assure him that Loki meant no harm. Darcy couldn’t help but feel guilty at that. She grasped at straws, trying to come up with something, _anything_ she’d ever read or studied about.

“I don’t think he has to stay here. _I know a way to get him out of here_. This would be official, above the books, with government acknowledgement, consent and all that jazz,” she said. The words flowed easier and faster as Darcy tried to outrun her own nervousness as the Stark-Potts power couple gave her their complete attention.

“Look, I really don’t know about how these things usually play out in the grand scale. I don’t know how the power differential between Asgard and Earth is going to affect this without analysing the details and getting more information—plus, it ain’t like we have a planetary government or anything like Asgard does, so the inter-governmental cooperation bits are going to be a _nightmare_ to sort through. There’s _no fricking way_ I’m volunteering for that either, by the way. Not to mention the _fuckton_ of work y’need to put into the whole back and forth between Asgard and Earth before anything like a final agreement is baked halfway—”

“Whoa, _whoa_ , slow down!”

“—but I think I might have an idea about what we can do,” Darcy breathed out.

Pepper smiled, unphased. The brunette had a suspicion that she had been thinking along similar lines at the same time but was just too gracious to ever say a word about it. She leaned forward.

“I’d love to hear all about it, Darcy.”

‘-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens... anyone wants to try guessing what any of our characters are up to?
> 
>    
>  Random List of Stuffs I Decided to Detail:
> 
> **_Asimov’s Law of Robotics_ :** Science fiction author Isaac Asimov made them to be the standing orders that overruled any other orders that a robot may be given. In I Robot, these are:  
>  _1\. A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm._  
>  _2\. A robot must obey the orders given it by human beings, except where such orders would conflict with the First Law._  
>  _3\. A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Laws._
> 
> **_Conjunction_ : **(astronomy) when planets seem to align with each other (or background stars) when seen from earth (or whatever planet or planetoid you’re standing on and is using as reference).
> 
> **_Hash function_ :** in this case, it’s the additional function that processes plain original passwords and passphrases by adding salt (and doing a couple other things beyond that). Not sure I can explain what it is in sufficiently abbreviated form here.
> 
> **_M &A ( ~~Murders and Executions~~ Mergers and Acquisitions)_ :** Totally stole the crossed-out lines from Patrick Bateman in _American Psycho_. In some ways, the M &A world is pretty cutthroat, though, and the tongue-in-cheek reply is almost appropriate.
> 
> **_Salt_ :** (cryptography) random data added to password or passphrase. To salt would be to intentionally (use a function to) add random data to stored passwords. This way, the stored password on file is not an exact match to the real password, securing it better in case of security breach.
> 
> ‘-


	12. XII. The Calm before the Storm (Discoveries)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Everyone prepares for the meeting. There is a single flash-forward scene with Tony. Jane uncovers something in her data (also, Science!)_

### XII. The Calm before the Storm (Discoveries)

 _Tony Stark is going to call an Avengers meeting_ , Darcy thought to herself as she rolled on the balls of her feet in the elevator. It still didn’t sound any more real than it had been even with repetition and she was getting too jacked up just to stand still. On an unrelated note, that had been the root of most of her problems back when she was in school.

Well, other than punching people who grabbed her boobs or ass—hey, they assaulted her first.

She remembered that Tory soon got tired of the times he was called to school when their mother couldn’t make it, but her brother never reprimanded her about it. He even defended her (she could certainly hear the arguments from behind the closed doors to the principal’s office). All he did as payback was only to start calling her _Slugger_ with a wide shit-eating grin regardless of her complaints. She didn’t mind it even half as much these days.

 _Dammit, one of these days, I’ll write that email to him_ , she made herself promise. There was a good reason why she usually updated him through emails instead of the occasional short phone call she did to her mom. He had the unnerving ability to ask her innocent questions and before she knew it, he’d fished out all the dirty stories and embarrassing anecdotes from her.

Now, her thoughts were still very much occupied with the Avengers and what she’d heard of Denver.

Captain America was on the front lines of the fight against whatever forces had been sighted around Denver. Darcy wasn’t sure on the details, but in the higher-clearance cafeteria, the scuttlebutt’s best guess was that it was Dr. Doom. _Comes with all the sightings of his bots, you see—who else could have them?_ She had heard someone say. No one could make heads or tails about the occasional rumour of the weird plants or animals that some people swore they knew someone who’d seen them—some of the more hard-ass agent types just snort in disbelief at that and say there was probably some hallucinogen or nerve agent mixed into the attacks.

 _Which, yeah, makes more sense, but it’s still just guesses at this point_.

She bet she could start talking about gel-like creatures or horrors made of slime that swallow you like a plate of vengeful Jello and people would pass it on as gospel truth by tomorrow—working for SHIELD or Stark Industries gave you front row seats to the weirdest of nature’s freak shows that no one would blink at that. On the other hand, as someone who knew how political campaigns were practically made or failed on the back of hearsay, she was keenly aware that it also meant more outrageous lies could wander around far more freely.

Darcy wished they had more reliable news than just _rumours_.

Bruce hadn’t been around much because of Denver too, but was generally part of the scientific support team (and in case someone was stupid enough to try to harm said team). Now this is pretty legit because she heard it directly from Bruce, not that she’d allowed herself to be marked as the number one news source on the Avengers by saying anything about it in the cafeteria. _No way._ Agents could sniff scuttlebutt faster than drug-detecting dogs, trufax. She’d never be able to eat there in peace any more, and that would be a damn shame because it was a good place to keep up with the news.

Why Bruce was sent _maybe_ had something to do with how Betty Ross was one of the core researchers there too. Darcy didn’t really pick up all that much detail on it, but she heard enough about the inestimable Dr. Ross from some of the post-doc and graduate biochemists to notice and how she’d been an old research partner of Dr Banner’s. The next line was usually ‘ _did you know about this awesome thing she wrote/discovered/created?_ ’ And Darcy usually slipped away before her eyes glazed too much from the sciencey talk.

She never really knew where Hawkeye or Black Widow was going, because they came and went far too quickly at times.

Still, knowing that something she did could induce Tony to call the Avengers to Assemble?

 _Unreal_.

There was only one thing left to do before it happened—find Loki and inform him of the schedule.

The alternative, as Tony had pointed out, was to (forcibly) summon him to his imprisonment chamber.

“ _If he prefers that, sure, I’ve got no problems with it. I’m just telling this to you because you seem to actually care about him for some freaky-ass reason_.”

_Darcy had shrugged and grinned at that. “It’s fine. You can call me freaky. I’ve heard that since high school and it never bothered me.”_

_Tony’s expression was…odd. She wasn’t sure she knew what it meant. “Heard that one thrown at me too. Always thought they were kinda unoriginal—so, no, don’t think I’d use it,” Tony had said_.

 So here she was, in an elevator in Stark Tower, going down.

Why down? It’s because there was no reply when she knocked at Loki’s assigned apartment. She might as well check the server room she’d found him in several days ago…

…which was something she had completely forgot to mention to Tony.

She rubbed her forehead and then reluctantly took her phone out of her bag. He’d been showing her a lot of goodwill. The least she could do is to ask him one simple question; _have you ever considered securing your servers with magic? Or at least, the room they’re placed in?_ Tony was smart and probably more paranoid than her (there was a one-word explanation for it: Pepper). Jarvis would be the first thing he secured against possible magical interference in this case.

Darcy had completed the message before her willpower wavered again. She saved the message on her phone. _I’ll send it after I’m done dropping in, I swear_.

‘-

Loki wasn’t in the server room.

Darcy had sent the text message to Tony and was currently on the 127th floor, on the way to her apartment. Her attention wasn’t in the here and now. She was too deep in her head.

She was pretty sure he wasn’t at either libraries, and that was confirmed by Jarvis too. She definitely shouldn’t overthink this because she wasn’t his minder (she was paid to feed and water scientists, like Jane and Erik, that was a given), but she couldn’t help it. Somehow he’d gotten into her orbit and she in his. They found a common ground on _politics_ , out of all things, along with their mutually sharp sense of humours _and_ _she can’t stop_ _caring about him_.

 _He’d probably laugh with that superior expression of his if he found out you were worrying_.

And he’d lord it over her head. Yes, he’d definitely do that. And if he did that, she’d merrily take the opening to counter by saying that he really shouldn’t be _that_ happy about her apparent mortal failing if he didn’t care about people caring for him. Which meant he actually _cared_ about her, enough that he actually _noticed_ that she cared. They’d get into another stupid argument that was actually half-exercise in wit and practise of leveraging apparent weaknesses that would look like real arguing to most people _but wasn’t_.

That was it. It was probably ridiculous, but out of all the things that she could think of, it made her stop worrying. If he was in deep shit, it certainly wouldn’t be all quiet on the western front.

 _Oh well_. She could probably catch up on something on Netflix.

Darcy pushed her door open and stared.

Loki was eating one of her Cherry Garcias on her couch. She couldn’t summon enough outrage to care about it, even when it was her last one, _the rat bastard_. She knew her living space certainly wasn’t fit to grace _Good Housekeeping_ , even if she was meticulous about hygiene and selectively deaf on tidiness. What was unfair was how the presence of the ice cream thief suddenly made the place seem like something she could’ve seen in _Rolling Stones_ , rock star included.

“You mortals certainly have a different definition of what constitutes as a short time. That was not even in the neighbourhood of short.” Loki said.

“Yeah, I know—I didn’t expect to get back this late either. I got roped into a surprise meeting,” Darcy answered, hoping her relief wasn’t obvious in her voice. “And good afternoon to you too.”

She was not going to think about what this meant. _Nope. Not enough brainpower right now_. She simply walked in and dropped her bag on a stool. She had thrown her beanie on the nearest open surface and about to sit down next to him when she noticed something was wrong.

Her couch was _green_. Again. “Loki! The _couch_!”

He rolled his eyes. “You didn’t even mind the sheets. What does it matter?”

“Because I bought budget sheets. But _this_? I waited every week until it was discounted. It’s _my_ couch. Make it purple again, or I’m not buying any more Cherry Garcias for you!”

“You will always procure some for yourself.”

“I swear I’ll buy _lime_ or _grapefruit_ sorbet instead and let’s see who’s complaining then.” Because she knew one of his weaknesses now—he had a sweet tooth for decadent desserts. Of the various ice cream and sorbet flavours she had in her fridge, he’d only touched a few of them, eyeing the others with a highly critical look. Loki rolled his eyes, but complied all the same.

‘-

Darcy ordered pizza and since Loki voiced no objections or made any comments and she took that to mean ‘acceptable’ (seriously? She’s billing all the additional food as either ‘diplomatic expenses’ or ‘accommodation expenses’, depending on which form is easier to fill). Not long after a short discussion on human clothes and their varieties (or at least the current trends of the modern world in the west), she informed him of the upcoming meeting.

“By the way, the Avengers are going to decide on what they’d do with you in eight days, so they’d be calling a meeting on ten on Thursday. You could choose whether to leave with me from this floor on nine-thirty, or have them use the summoning cell at nine-forty five.”

Loki didn’t look up from his casual browsing of last year’s Milan Fashion Week on the StarkPad.

 _There is too many things wrong with that sentence that I don’t know where to begin_. Should it really surprise her that he’d show interest in high fashion?

“Hmmmm,” he murmured.

“Well, what is it?”

“You cannot just inform me where this particular meeting will be held at?”

“ _Dude_? _No_. I don’t think they trust you yet. _I_ don’t even know where it is now. I’ll get the instructions on D-Day.” She said.

“I suppose I can leave with you,” he said with reluctance, as if it had been a great chore for him to do so.

“Right. I’ll be out of my front door at nine thirty on that Thursday morning,” she answered, easily ignoring the mood of His Royal Prissiness.

He was still not looking up when she carefully picked her words. “I just have one last question that I _had_ to ask, no matter how obvious the answer would seem to you.”

His hands paused, and Loki gave what she said some thought. For him, that adds up to around three seconds.

“You’re about to ask something whose answer you already know,” he said, shrewdly. “Yet you still have to ask the question, just so you can give an actual quoted answer to someone else who will no doubt demand it from you. In your case, it will certainly be your superiors, probably people affiliated with the Avengers.”

She nodded. The most convenient thing about talking to Loki was how she didn’t need to spell things out. Scarcely any verbal slips or unsaid statements escaped his observation.

“Exactly. Here it goes. Would you swear that you have no malicious plans against any part of earth or its inhabitants?”

He tapped his chin in thought, green eyes easily meeting hers as he seemed to consider her question. “Let me think about it for a month,”

“Urgh, _whatever_. I’ll just take that as no.”

Loki was amused. “Misrepresenting my words now, are you?”

“No, I’ll just mark that under ‘no answer within the reasonable time given’.” She said. “You know that not informing anyone of what your intentions were would make people around you worry, right? And they have a right to worry considering what you’re capable of? And make plans about it?”

“I thought you only have _one_ insipid question?” His tone was cooler now.

“I want to cover all bases. Just to make sure no one is blaming _me_ because they’ve been careless or stupid,” she saw Loki smirk at that and rolled her eyes. “That includes you, by the way. These questions are for your benefit.”

“That is completely unnecessary. I am fully aware of what I am getting into,” he said, most of his attention falling out of the conversation with rapid ease as he browsed away on Google. Darcy shrugged. This time she didn’t hide her worry. Odds are, Loki wouldn’t take it seriously anyway, but she had to try. Because she knew what was waiting for him in several days— _she_ started it.

And she didn’t like hiding the truth.

“You know, about those people who would worry…I’m one of them too,” she said.

“And what? You would campaign that I need to be bound and gagged, to ensure everyone’s safety? Kept under several tons of earth after being stripped of my magic? Wait, it would be much more intimidating if someone would find an Abyssal Serpent and use _that_ to bind me.” He asked, providing creepy alternatives far too easily for someone whose freedom was at risk, even as Darcy winced at them. Loki was deriving too much fun from this.

She rolled her eyes. “ _No_. What is this, the Dark Ages? I don’t know what calendar Asgard’s running on, but we don’t pull that crap here anymore.”

“Think of all the villains that you cannot exact extraordinary retribution from anymore! Consider various punishments that you could pick and choose to personally tailor it to fit their crimes. To walk back from that would be to your detriment in providing an example to those who harbour ill intentions towards your realm,” he said. On any other person, his tone could be described as cheerful. On Loki, with his capability to infuse grandeur into his words, it was a lighter form of _mania_.

It was kind of sad that she was getting used to it to simply huff in exasperation, even when she could almost taste the power gathering in the air at the back of her teeth. It no longer crossed her mind to get the hell away from him when he was just, well, being _him_. Complete with his low-grade megalomania.

“I’m sure it would,” she said, dryly. “I’m just saying that protecting earth is higher on my priorities than not ruining any sinister plans and not hurting your feelings.”

He shrugged. “Ruin away.”

She gave up at that point and glared. “Oh, _whatever_. I’m totally not going to listen to you whine if I screw up something of yours. This is my last warning, by the way.”

Darcy headed off what was probably an insult on her ability to actually ruin his plans by changing the subject. “Anyways, if you’re bored enough to start randomly browsing, we might as well watch some movies. Have you seen Star Wars the original trilogy yet? Because it’s a classic. You can get around far on earth by knowing Star Wars.”

And that was how they spent the night.

 ‘-

On the morning of the Avengers’ meet, there were only three of them in the room. Tony came early because… who knows why Tony did anything in particular?

“Morning guys!”

“Good morning, Tony.” Steve Rogers greeted back.

Bruce looked up, barely reacting except for a jaded look. “Oh, it’s _you_.”

“Is that any way to greet your lab partner? _I_ stocked the fridge.”

The scientist smiled a little. Of the heads of the labs on the 89th floor, Tony was the unexpected person that reminded his peers to eat or snack most often. “Oh, alright. And I suppose some of my equipments and stationery migrate to your part of the lab by accident?”

Tony, on the other hand, does not always remember to stock his own office supplies. Especially when he’d used them up in some chemistry experiment or another out of _boredom_.

“Well, maybe I just throw better parties there than you and they want to join the fun,” Tony answered.

Bruce rolled his eyes but did not deign to reply. He had arrived early because he reckoned he could do his reading anywhere; Tony could see his motivation in the titles of the published papers he was reading—stuff about liver functions that Tony was definitely not that interested in on two tabs and others were… essentially published speculations on the possible forms of xeno-proteins if there were life in exoplanets? _Oh come on, Bruce, don’t tell me that’s the closest thing you read to science fiction!_

Captain America was just that much of a boy scout to come early, though from what Tony could see he was wasting time on his StarkPad. Steve had opened YouTube as well as chatting with servicemen and servicewomen he’d worked with in Denver, about _Denver_.

Tony groaned audibly, ignoring the questioning looks his teammates was sending. Why would the Cap still want to talk shop even in his _spare time_? And does Bruce ever stop working? Sometimes he thought he’d never get his teammates.

A moment later, Nick Fury strode to the meeting room, unerringly finding Tony within a split second of his entrance. It was difficult to believe unless one saw it, but his scowl turned deeper. He did not walk as much as run down everything in his path. Anyone who saw him was left with no doubt that here was a man who crushes armed insurrections before breakfast.

Steve Rogers had stood up when Fury entered, but as the two men exchanged greetings, he had returned his attention to his StarkPad by now.

Tony gave his best happy-go-lucky grin.

He had informed the Director of the meeting just two days before D-Day to keep the element of surprise on his side (and to _not_ get outmanoeuvred, of course). With his hands in his pockets and an insouciant smile at hand, he couldn’t look more careless if he tried. Bruce sat next to Tony; he only looked up once from the lab reports he was reading before going back to it once he saw it was Fury.

“The Avengers is not a democracy, Stark.” The Director warned.

“And you think I don’t know that after _months_? I just thought you might want to hear a good idea, y’know?” Tony said.

“What are you playing at? Why are there civilians invited?”

 He said the word ‘civilians’ as if it was a curse word. Bruce quietly edged his chair away from Tony.

“Because it was one of them who had the idea?” Tony said. His occasional lab-partner glanced up at that, surprised. Tony didn’t really give a lot of details on the meeting. “And I think this is a bit outside our jurisdiction and expertise. Still, if we’re going to end up being the ones having to uphold it, it couldn’t hurt to know about it first. You know, before Washington gets dragged into it.”

“ _Stark_ ,”

“Nope. I’m not saying anything yet. Spoiler alert, y’know.”

“Whatever blackmail attempt you’re trying, it will not work.” The Director said. The weight of his conviction stood behind in his words.

“Yeah, _yeah_. You’re a man of extraordinary integrity and all that.” Tony said. He was still as relaxed as he’d started even as he weathered the pressure of Fury’s stare. “Who said anything about blackmail, anyway? It’s such a bad word. Why would us heroes like us do that, right? Right, Capsicle?”

Steve Rogers raised his head from his StarkPad to send Tony a knowing look. Anyone else would’ve sighed, but he was raised with better manners than that. Plus, he was gaining immunity to Tony Stark after the first months of shock-and-awe exposure.

“Tony, please don’t agitate Director Fury on purpose.”

“Hey, why are you blaming me? He’s the one leaning on me, here! And here _I_ thought you’d appreciate the opportunity to stand on the side of the oppressed.”

Steve stared at Tony as if he was an extraterrestrial fish, before giving up trying to understand the alien life form altogether.

“You’ll survive,” he finally answered. Bruce snorted, in the unsubtle way of someone holding back laughter. The two Avengers members that weren’t Iron Man exchanged amused glances. Tony sent a look of betrayal in Bruce’s direction but his friend didn’t react further.

Fury glared Tony down in silence for another few seconds. Just when Tony was starting to get antsy, the Director walked away and took his seat at the head of the table.

“I don’t know what you’re planning, Stark, but I have my eyes on you.”

Tony snorted as he sat back down on his chair. “Yeah, the fulfilment of my greatest dreams, right there.”

“Should Pepper be worried about that?” Bruce asked.

“Ha ha, Brucie. Ha. _Ha_. Come to take your cheap shots when you didn’t even stick your neck out for me, are you?”

“Well, I can tell when I’m not wanted. Especially since you two look so cosy back there…” Bruce replied, way too calm for his friend’s liking. Tony groaned. “On a more serious note, Tony, what are you up to?”

He visibly regretted asking the question as soon as it came out of his mouth, because Tony’s smirk was diabolical. The billionaire rubbed his hands together with glee.

“Well, you’d just have to wait to find out, don’t you?”

‘-

Darcy was getting on edge again and the eight days of waiting is killing her. She _fucking hates it_.

There was nothing wrong, actually, and that was her problem. It was too smooth, too _perfect_ , and she was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. When they were watching Star Wars, she completely forgot that it might be relevant to him; about how the main character had parents he had hated or feared all this time. It took all of her poker face to pretend she didn’t see anything when he tensed at the Darth Vader reveal, because she didn’t want him in a fit.

Man, did she felt dumb for that.

Somehow, the conversation carried on normally at all times, excluding the occasional quiet and silence. Darcy had fallen asleep on the couch beside him some time at the beginning of the third movie.

She woke up to the realisation that her life was now firmly inside Twilight Zone.

Darcy was on her bed, in an empty apartment, carefully tucked in. Her plushies were even exactly where she usually placed them: Rainbow Dash was on one corner of the bed and Vicky the feathered Velociraptor on the other end. Loki was nowhere in sight. _He’s probably gone back to his apartment…or maybe somewhere else_.

Noneof her fuckbuddies ever tucked her in. _None_. Because she couldn’t remember having any one of them staying over for movie night without sex involved. _Huh. Okay, so he’s a gentleman through and through_. She could get used to that perk really quickly, the same way she happily adjusted to sleeping with someone who was used to living as royalty. The bed she was in now had green silk sheets instead of cotton ones, blankets with plush fur that felt like alpaca and a surfeit of small pillows. She sighed and snuggled back in—she certainly didn’t complain about the change. _It’s sooo comfy_. The blanket was of a similar shade to the mossy earthenware cup shot with gold threads in her kitchen that had appeared out of nowhere (Loki used it most often for coffee). She didn’t know her ceramics, but she’d be damned if the technique used didn’t remind her of old Japanese antiques.

He had been leaving stuff all over her place and she’d only noticed it now.

Darcy bolted upright on her bed. _What the hell? How did this happen??_

No, she was not going to read more meaning than was actually there. _Okay, don’t panic, Darce. Let’s go over of what had happened first._ He was just captured in an alien place, with no familiar face in sight but those he had complex issues with (Thor) or people he’d tried to kill (the Avengers). She was as welcome as she was unexpected, and the unexpected similarities between them despite the difference in character brought them closer faster. He had a metric ton of issues, so she never pushed him on anything and was just there for his company—that was probably why he could be comfortable with her too. She also does not take his shit personally, so he hadn’t driven her away yet.

Somehow, they ended with a weird sort of companionship as their status quo. _Also, yeah, there was the great sex. Probably helped._

So he hung around her often. So what? It wasn’t as if he had any other friends nearby, does he? What choice does he have? (She decidedly did not think far into how he could certainly choose his own company—he already could read all the books he wanted to once she handed him the StarkPad, it wasn’t as if he was dependent on her for entertainment either).

_And this?_

_Friends with benefits_ , Darcy thought. She could definitely upgrade their weird dynamic into friends with benefits considering how comfortable they were talking with one another and just being friends.

But comfortable was one thing. _Nesting_ was a different beast entirely. If she thought about it too much, she really didn’t know if any conclusion she’d take wouldn’t be outlandish. Yet the meeting would only happen in around a week, and there were all those days she could use to get worked up over it. She cursed under her breath.

She could choose to lose her head overanalysing this ( _which is so not cool, Darce, no guy is worth that much_ ), or she could find out more about him. Maybe an important clue is going to come to light—who knows? Moving certainly suited her better than staying still; there was no question on the choice she took.

Besides, Jane was sure to expect her back at the lab today.

‘-

It was eight in the morning when Darcy arrived at the lab and Jane was already elbow-deep in data spreadsheets, her own notes, and several published papers that she printed on purpose. There was nothing new about it. Darcy allowed herself a brief moment of despair— _has her time away from work_ not _gotten her to relax more?_ But she saw several things that were different—Jane was just shrugging out of her coat and scarf. The assistant thought fall wasn’t really here yet, but well, the weather’s been a bit funky and on the cold side lately (not that she noticed much as she mostly stayed in Stark Tower).

The scent of baked goods lured Darcy further in and she saw a spread of danishes and donuts on the coffee table. The feast laid before her would’ve been an appropriate breakfast for four people.

“Wow, you went _out_ and bought _breakfast_?” Darcy asked. Jane hesitated.

“Well…”

It looked more like someone hoped Jane could eat all this stuff in one meal and _maybe_ not suffer greatly if she forgot to eat in the next three or five days. _Like a boa_ , Darcy thought, _but with the courageous drive for SCIENCE! Behold the Science-boa!_ Heck, if Bruce ever figured out how to allow people to transform into snakes and back again, she would bet her savings that Jane would be on _that_ in a second.

_For a workaholic, what was the downside of being able to eat a month’s share of food in one mealtime?_

“What happened, your mother dropped in and tried to feed you?” Darcy was impressed.

The scientist ducked her head a little and Darcy thought she could see the colour on the edge of her cheek. “Um, well, Thor thought he didn’t see me eat anything before leaving in the last two days. He insisted that I get ‘a bite’ to tide me on the way to the lab. We went to this corner coffee shop last week and he suggested we walk there this morning.”

“Uh huh, and it had nothing to do with how he’s probably also missing you.”

Jane rolled her eyes but her cheeks were still flushed. “ _Alright_ , I got carried away with some stuff for a few days. No problem. But yes, he bought me breakfast.”

“Did he use a card for that?”

Jane almost looked affronted, but Darcy only raised her eyebrows higher, still waiting.

“Oh, alright. He paid in cash, without cards, but I didn’t even know he actually has anything resembling earth money! Or a _wallet_ instead of some pouch! That’s progress.”

“Um, sure.”

 _And if I helped Loki as much as you helped Thor and pointed him in the right direction, he could probably hack a bank by now_ , Darcy thought, unbidden. She tamped it down in a rush of guilt towards Thor. _No, that’s not fair. He might be more comfortable around technology, but he’s certainly lacking in the moral sense department_.

Thor certainly cared for Jane, enough that he wasn’t concerned about how he looked if a mighty warrior like him had to coax his girlfriend into running a breakfast errand with him. _He’d learned that, got used to humility than being high and mighty_. Right. Guilt towards Thor appeased and she certainly succeeded reminding herself of all things Good and Noble that Loki was lacking in.

“So, what do you need me to do for you since breakfast is taken care of?” Darcy asked.

“Run the statistical software package you got for me for the data you’ve inputted and cleaned,” Jane said. “I have the list of operations here—”

“Hell no!”

“Darcy…”

“ _Triple_ _No_.” She made a frantic X-sign with her arms. “That’s above and beyond the call of duty, Boss-lady. You _know_ how I scraped through my introductory statistics I and II, right? And I bet they’re not as complicated as what you’re running here.”

“It’s just pushing some buttons! Just like operating the machines except that it’s a program and you’re _good_ with programs. Please, Darcy?” Jane was certainly desperate if she was reduced to begging this quickly. “I have to… I have to rerun some of the calculations and read up on more methods of separating interference, telluric or otherwise, and I’m not even sure if I _should_ do the Fourier transform _after_ I subtracted the—”

“ _Jane!_ I don’t understand enough of your science babble!” Darcy said quickly. The last thing she wanted to do was to swim upstream against the flow of equations, expected distributions and all the statistics crap she swore she gave up years ago.

“—or _before_ I subtracted it. Did I read those last papers correctly? I think so—”

Jane hadn’t had coffee yet, had she? Darcy glanced around. _Oh, Thor had bought her one_. _No wonder_. Darcy never gave the astrophysicist coffee before nine, not after the day she typed out the draft for three papers in a single day and tried getting Darcy to proofread them. Jane was one of those lucky people who were naturally perky in the morning unless after an all-nighter.

Darcy had to walk across the lab and hold her boss firmly by the arms.

“ _Jane._ ”

“…yes?”

“I didn’t get that. _At all_.”

“Err.”

Darcy sighed. “Maybe you should start from the beginning, you know? Like _which_ data? Is it the anomalies we’ve been collecting? And what did you see?”

Jane took a deep breath. “Yes, it was something about the data from the anomalies.”

“Great! I actually understood that.” Darcy answered happily, ignoring the look that Jane was sending her. “Go on?”

“You know how some anomalies are just, well, anomalies, and how some are clearly portals, right?”

“Yeah, I got that. Like the one we almost Ginger Intern 1 almost fell into because you were too busy staring at it and hadn’t given him enough warning, right? In Appalachia?”

Jane grumbled. “You’re not going to let go of that, are you?”

Darcy kept her smile. “Nope. So, we have anomalies. Some are just weird shit and others are actually portals—still weird shit, but actually weird shit we know a bit more about. Got that. What else?”

“Remember Anomaly Three?”

“What?” Darcy had that weird blank look on her face. Jane finally decided to be more specific.

“It’s the one in Michigan? The very stable one? I don’t think we can collapse it even if we tried.”

Darcy nodded and helped herself to some pastry. Jane was certainly not going to finish it on her own.  “Oh, that was a particularly large portal and the view on the other side was all…untamed snowy wilderness ala Conan the Barbarian. I was worried if a horde of orcs were going to run us down. Or Genghis Khan.”

“I don’t know how you came up with these things,” Jane murmured.

“Hey, you’ve got no room to complain— _your_ reality includes a space alien boyfriend. My imagination looks downright reasonable compared to that. It might even be true. You never know if there are people who live on the other side of that thing and they might not be friendly.”

Jane cleared her throat. “Yes, _well_ … so we both saw that mountain in the background too, right?”

“Uh huh.”

Darcy could see the split-second hesitation on Jane’s face only because she knew the astrophysicist very well. She even spoke carefully.

“I think I saw it through Anomaly Number Seven as well.”

“The one in the middle of a river? That one looks like a TV with no station on,” Darcy thought out loud.

“I saw the same mountain,” Jane insisted. “For a moment, anyway. I thought it might be possible that some of those irregular space-time folds—”

“anomalies,” Darcy insisted,

‘—are actually portals. Maybe they’re _all_ portals,” Jane breathed out, barely holding back her excitement. “Most are probably failed portals, considering the way they fizzle and die, or fall apart after a certain time had passed. The fates of these smaller anomalies are actually strikingly similar to smaller black holes of inadequate mass—they lose more mass through Hawking Radiation than they take in and die off sooner rather than later. In the case of these portals, I don’t know where they get the mass or energy in the first place, but the basic idea would still be the same.”

The brunette couldn’t help but consider her reaction as a _bit_ on the wrong side. Was she the only one that was worried that those anomalies are behaving worryingly like _black holes_?

“Uh, Jane? No offence, but we don’t know what’s on the other side. We might still get run down by orcs, led by Genghis Khan.” She waved a matcha-frosted donut around, to prove her point.

“Oh, all of the anomalies have either been contained and secured or encouraged to drain out with the right energy feedback. As I’ve said before, most of them aren’t close enough to working,” Jane said, undeterred. “On our side, we could certainly fine tune _our_ Bifrost with the information we collected from them. And we’ve been collecting a _lot_. It’s far more to our advantage.”

Darcy narrowed her eyes.

“So, why am I suddenly trusted with _statistics?_ ”

There was a gleam in Jane’s eyes and Darcy wasn’t sure if she should be happy for her friend or start finding the nearest cover.

“ _Because_. Because the alternative would be me, running the program, and _you_ trying to find the right methods to use to reduce all the largest interference and the reason _why_ , and I expect them to be backed by at least several published papers. If that was done—and I’m pretty sure _that_ would be taking the most of our time and effort—I can build a profile of the local sun in each location if I’ve gotten that last phase done; I might even be able to see whether the spectrograms _match_.”

Jane was muttering other things under her breath.

“Well, not _just_ the sun. Probably the composition of the atmosphere too. Right now, there’s no separating the anomaly’s radiation from whatever came inside it, though…”

There really was no stopping Jane when she was On the Verge of a Breakthrough. Darcy was beginning to suspect that if she was willing, Jane would gladly teach her all about how to read the output from the various machines she’d set up better, or even basic star measuring whatever widget and even—Darcy shuddered—advanced _calculus_.

 _Jane better not try to get me on measure theory again_ , Darcy thought. Honestly it was something she’d ever wanted to do, maybe not even if her life was on the line. No freaking _way_.

“Uh, have you thought of, I don’t know, actually requesting more interns? Actual, hard-science-people interns? Or maybe some math people?” Darcy asked carefully.

“I have, but they’re not arriving any time soon, are they?” Jane asked, her patience wearing a little thin.

“Maybe we’ve been running through them _a little_ too quickly?” Darcy offered.

Jane still looked not-amused and no less determined than before. “Then we can’t wait for them.”

She gulped and just prepared herself for a long day of slogging through numbers.

‘-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My schedule is (thankfully) returning to normal. Next chapter update is next week.
> 
> The velociraptor plushie does exist. All the credit goes to [paleoplushies](http://palaeoplushies.tumblr.com/image/88666780975) (there was even a kickstarter campaign once. Too bad I missed it).
> 
> The higher-clearance cafeteria should in no way be misconstrued as the highest clearance cafeteria. For that, there is none. Because most of the people in these category are usually either the ones looking so ordinary/harmless that most people don’t even expect as having a high clearance, or those that are stoic cagey bastards most of the time. Most work far from the limelight and would prefer to keep it that way.
> 
>  
> 
> Clarification on Random Terms:
> 
> **_Hawking Radiation_ :** the electromagnetic radiation (precise type: black body radiation) that is predicted to be released by black holes, due to quantum effects near the event horizon. Named after physicist Stephen Hawking. (Wikipedia says this more concisely than I could).
> 
>  ** _Spectrogram_ :** A visual representation of spectrum of frequencies (Again, that was all Wikipedia folks). In the case of Jane’s spectrograms, it’s clearly the spectrogram for the radiation of observed objects in space. (Or in the case of the anomalies, observed objects not-in-space).


	13. XIII.	Holding Patterns (Waiting)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Darcy gets busy as Jane ups her schedule. Darcy spots Loki reading and makes a book recommendation (Machiavelli’s ‘Il Prince’). An argument happens and is taken to its logical conclusion. An old friend of Darcy flits by in a flashback._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Old readers may notice that I've changed the story's summary. I thought I could be more accurate about it as the story progresses.
> 
> The argument in this chapter is version 2.1 - previously there was no argument, but it was too flat. I rewrote it with more tension and suddenly things get a bit...heated. Seriously, it wasn't as if I planned it that way.
> 
> For some reason I found that the best music for Darcy’s flashback scene with Sarah (the very last scene in this chapter) is Vivaldi’s _Winter_ from _Four Seasons_.

### XIII. Holding Patterns (Waiting)

When lunch break rolled around, Darcy left the lab.

Jane only gave her a curious look but didn’t ask any other questions. Usually, Darcy ordered in, but she was known to go off to one of the cafeterias when extremely bored (and she needed to replenish her depleted gossip supply on a regular basis—like hell she was getting out of the loop). Besides, why wouldn’t she stretch her legs while she can? Especially when there was the chance that they’d be cooped up in the lab again until at least _nine_? Right now, what Darcy intended to do  was return to her apartment or Loki’s and check on him. Yes, she had no obligation to, but she just didn’t want him to have inadvertently waited for her because he expected her to be home at some normal-hours rather than Jane-hours.

_Waitasec, I just made him sound like a pet…_

Surprise, surprise, he actually answered her at the door of his apartment and let her in. The living room was sparser than she thought it would be. No prize for guessing what the colour of his couch is.

“Yes?” Loki asked.

“You could hang out at my apartment and everything if you’re really bored, just saying this. I don’t think I need to give you a key, do I, Mr. Teleport? I’d probably only be back at midnight and then only to sleep. Then, I’d wake up in the wee hours of the morning to repeat what I did today,” she ended it with a sigh.

He observed her for a while without saying anything, Darcy just waited.

“I had the impression that you were ‘working’ as opposed to being an indentured serf.”

She rolled her eyes. “Ha ha, laugh it up. Go on. It’s back to the economy thing again. I sort of explained it to you several days ago, right? Yeah, _that_.”

“No better alternative than starving? Hmm, and here I thought serfdom had been abolished.”

“Hey, it’s not that bad, it’s—” Darcy paused. What did she knew about the economy that was good news, other than it’s climbing up? It’s still not as fast as everyone would like. “—we still have better hygiene! And better mortality rate! And higher average age before death!”

He raised one fine eyebrow at her.

“Ah, so your excuse would be, ‘ _it’s completely fine to live miserably, because we live twice as long_ ’, yes?”

She wasn’t sure, but that sounded close. “Mmm, maybe?”

“Thus you’d live twice as miserably too?” Loki asked again.

“Nnno. Damn, you’d just twist anything I’d say, won’t you?” Darcy grumbled.

He shrugged, but at the edge of her vision there was a shadow of a smile on his face. “I was only clarifying your own arguments for you. If there are contradictions in them, _I_ certainly didn’t put it there.”

“Never mind. So yeah, that’s the news, and now I’m going to go buy myself some lunch and go back to work.”

His forehead creased. “So soon?”

“Well, lunch break isn’t going to last forever,” she said. “It’s only for an hour…ish.”

“And you chose to spend some of it walking all the way here, and now you’d walk all the way back,” he stated. Darcy was beginning to get used to that inquisitive look that he often aimed at her and mostly when he thought she wasn’t looking. What exactly it meant was still a mystery to her, but she’d find out about it soon.

One of these days. _Really_.

She shrugged. “That’s what friends do. Hey, it’s no biggie. I did it because I wanted to, anyway. Who needs an hour to eat sandwiches?”

He had a small frown now, too deep in his own calculation and observing her with scrutiny reserved for a divide by zero result. If he wasn’t asking actual questions, she was going to take it to mean that he didn’t really want actual answers either.

“Errr, ooookay. I’ll just go off for now, then?”

‘-

Darcy went home to an empty apartment and barely had enough strength to drag herself to the bathroom before going to sleep (the door creaked and annoyed her on the way in and out, she reminded herself to do something about it soon). The next day was more of the same, other than how she had to beg off the afternoon from Jane because she had a meeting from a different division to attend (‘No, Jane, I _swear_ it isn’t science stuff at all, it’s closer to administrative and legal stuff, and do you actually want to attend that instead of just sending me? No, right? Thought so.’) She spent it exchanging ideas and refining plans with Pepper.

She dropped by the swimming pool, mostly to float and not think than swim; she was really too tired to properly swim.

It was a good way to relax and unwind, though.

At the end of the day, she entered her apartment with similar levels of exhaustion as yesterday. This time, she noticed the StarkPad that was on the coffee table _wasn’t_ hers (hers was definitely in her bag), along with that familiar green cup with gold lines spiderwebbing out like a crack. She was also pretty sure she didn’t leave _The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy_ out on the table when she left this morning (the transcript of the radio series, not the novels).

_Nevermind_ , she thought. She sighed and plodded on. Loki could certainly clean and tidy up with less effort than she could—this was all probably like camping to him. _He was camping out in my apartment_ , she thought with not a little amount of relief. _Yeah, that’s a good explanation, Darce_. When Darcy dropped her head on the pillow, she instantly fell asleep.

On the third day that she woke up, she went to the bathroom, ignored the way the door whined and went through her routine with only half a mind to it. She reluctantly dragged herself out of the bedroom, skirts, blazers and all—and paused at the doorway.

Loki was reading on her couch with a serious expression, and what almost made her double check was how he was apparently wearing a green silk button-down shirt and trousers that highlighted his long legs. Fortunately for him, her couch was still purple. She decided not to wonder whether it had been green until he heard the noises she made waking up in her room and transformed it back.

It was hard not to notice that he’d made some tea, as its warm scent was spreading throughout her apartment. It also happened to be English Breakfast instead of Earl Grey.

“Mmmm, that smells divine.”

“Of course it does,” he replied, as if she was making a statement about how the sky was blue. She ignored his smug expression because he was being unexpectedly helpful (and Darcy believed in positive reinforcement). The pot was on the table, along with an extra mug. She took that and poured herself some while he scrolled through whatever book or wall of text he was reading today.

She could always buy breakfast on her way to the lab, or she could just make some. She was pretty sure she had toast and egg. Darcy picked herself up from the couch and drifted to the kitchen while she mulled over several things in her mind. She opened her fridge. _Yep, all the ingredients are there_.

“Had breakfast yet?” Darcy asked.

“I have not planned any, no.”

“Want some French Toast?” She ignored his curious look. He probably had never heard of French Toast. “You know, bread, eggs, milk, sugar? So?”

“You are offering to make me some?”

“Yeah, because I’m going to make breakfast for myself either way, and making for two isn’t that much different than making for one. So? Do you want one or not?”

“I would be glad to partake on your table.” She decided that it was Asgard-speak for ‘yes’.

“Cool.”

Darcy started taking the ingredients out of the fridge. She would definitely make her more sophisticated French toast with vanilla and a hint of cinnamon. If he was going to diss earth’s food, it would not be through her cooking. She was lucky to have roomed with Sarah in college, because her friend seemed to be well-practised at cooking and took over most of the kitchen-related duties.Yet Darcy could proudly say that she was great with desserts and anything sweet.

While she cracked eggs and went on with her cooking, she called out to him from the kitchen area.

“So, what are you reading?” She asked. “Just curious, it doesn’t look like a very pleasant read.”

It wasn’t as if she understood most of the German at a glance. But it was not that hard to notice _Kriegsplan_ and a whole lot of other _krieg_ s, and she could certainly read his frowning face.

“It is not. The man has interesting ideas but there are definite contradictions in some of them,” he said. Was that a hint of frustration that she heard? _Yes, yes it is_.

“What’s the title?”

“ _On War_ ,” he said.

She nodded. Darcy had read up on it. Even after Tony dubbed it as harmless, well, she just wanted to make sure of it personally.

“Ooh, _that_ one. You _do_ know that Clausewitz died before he could edit his book for the final time, right? So it wasn’t done yet. Almost done, yes, but not completely. His widow was the one who published it, so you could forgive the guy if he hadn’t made up his mind yet on some stuff.” Darcy nodded sagely. She could _totally_ look wise and mysterious, never mind she owed Wikipedia her soul for all that. And maybe her firstborn too.

He was quiet for several moments, and she used that time to just concern herself with the bread. She was in the process of frying them when she heard him speak up again.

“And you know this because you have read it?”

She laughed. “Oh, no, not at all. I’m not _that_ into military history.”

Darcy had tried reading  _On War_ once and ended up skimming over several parts before giving up—and that was just the English translation. 

“But what I _did_ is to always check up the reviews of books that I’m about to read online, or their backgrounds on Wikipedia.” See, she _was_ nice.

If he pissed her off like some deadweights in the group assignments in one of her classes, she’d have lorded her superior knowledge over him. She’d act mysterious so he could begin the rites of suplication and admiration if he wanted her continued wisdom, forever teethered to her yoke since his search-fu was not as good as hers. Since Loki was sort of an okay guy for an ex-megalomaniac, she figured she could share tips.

“On general knowledge, Wikipedia is your _friend_ . The open-source encyclopaedia is where we put in one big pile the knowledge of our _species_ ,” she said proudly. “Everyone with internet access can edit it.”

“Really,” he sounded doubtful. How was it possible that she was dead sure there was doubt on his expression even when she couldn’t see his face?

“Yes, _really_. Not perfectly yet, but it’s getting there. Just let me finish this first and I’ll get back to you on that one.”

She was more than halfway done and it didn’t take long to finish the rest. Darcy carried the fruits of her labours to the living room—because eating on the dining table when there were just the two of them was weird. It felt too formal.

“Tada. French Toast,” she declared, placing two plates on the table and a larger pile of them in the middle. She went back again to the kitchen to carry maple syrup (you can’t go wrong with maple syrup), chocolate syrup and fine sugar to dust it. This much food was probably just appetizer for him, or maybe half of a breakfast, _but it’s the thought that counts, right?_

“And those are…”

“Stuff you put on them. Maple syrup, chocolate syrup and sugar,” she said, pointing out the bottles and jar. “Just try it on a bit and see if you like it. If you do, put more, if not, move on to the others.”

She happily dug into her breakfast after liberally dousing it with maple syrup. If Loki was going to comment on how sloppy it was, she was going to ignore him.

“Is that much syrup really necessary?”

_Nope, not listening to that either_. “For me? Yep.”

For all his disbelief, he still tried the maple syrup first.

Darcy took a bite and couldn’t help her satisfied sigh. It _was_ good. She managed to make it crispy on the outside and still soft on the inside. She took a bigger bite before retrieving her StarkPad and opening the browser with ease. It wasn’t long before she had opened up Carl von Clausewitz’s Wikipedia entry.

“Here, let me show you. This is his page and…”

She leaned into Loki’s side and scrolled down to the section she had read before. It was tempting to just place her head on his shoulders and stay like that for hours, but she needed to go to the lab. “There. See the background surrounding his writing process? That made me doubt that I’d ever want to read this as a quick casual read. It would probably be a lot more helpful to read that while opening another book or two from historians who’d tried to delve into it as well to get a better idea.”

“It’s sort of like getting a guide to show you the way when you first enter uncharted territories.”

Darcy placed her StarkPad on the table and pulled herself away from him with stern admonishments to herself before continuing to eat. She was always one the starving side on mornings and she needed to be done with breakfast once she left for work. Loki was fortunately oblivious to all the mini-dilemmas and minor temptations that pop up whenever she was near him.

“So you recommend that I find the relevant entry on this encyclopaedia first before I read a book?”

She nodded. “Yes—I’d do that most of the time when the books are old enough. That way more than one generation has gone over it, y’see? A lot of people would’ve read it and written about it. You’d also get a wide range of opinions that way. If the books’ are still kinda new, well, it might not be so helpful. You’d just have to go and read them. Then again, they don’t leave inconsistencies that big in print when they publish books nowadays because we certainly have more editorial staff on hand compared to _several hundred years ago_. Modern books are probably less frustrating to read than older ones.”

She could see him close the e-book and open up his browser. Darcy took two more toasts before Loki demolished them all, and leaned back on the couch’s armrest. Before she realised it, she’d placed her calves in his lap (it was a habit she had with an old girlfriend). It would be too awkward to pull them back now. Luckily for her, he didn’t seem to mind—or maybe he barely even noticed it.

“I don’t know why you want to go with that first, though. I think Machiavelli’s _The Prince_ is a lot easier to read and much more concise. It’s not military philosophy or whatever and more of a political one.” Darcy recommended. Loki hadn’t touched his toast again, listening.

“He goes and makes all these recommendations on what he thinks a good Prince should do in ruling his principality—and he’s a really pragmatic guy. He said stuff like, ‘never raise someone else to power and rely on their gratitude to keep them indebted to you’. You’d probably get along well with him if you knew him. Of course, there is the political context of the period he’s using as his examples, but that’s not _that_ hard to understand—the modern version always has footnotes, for example, and again, Wikipedia is your friend.”

Most guys would stare at her as if she’d grown a second head at this point, usually once they managed to take their eyes off her boobs to realise that, hey, this chick actually knows her shit better than they do. Loki, however, was far more interested now than he’d been at the beginning. She stifled an inward sigh. Sometimes she thought things would be much simpler if he was an actual asshole instead of being a poli-sci nerd, who was only an occasional jerkass when he let his title get to his head.

“I don’t always agree with Machiavelli and I swear that I have a good reason for that—and we can definitely talk about it later—but he raised very good points. So it’s still one of my favourites and I still reread it occasionally. Wait, why am I saying all this when you haven’t even read the book?”  She threw her hands in the air, ignoring Loki’s amused look.

“You would lend me a book advising a prince on how to reign?” Loki asked.

She shrugged. “Why not?”

“It _is_ a good book—you can even borrow my own copy. The trick is to know what his assumptions are when he’s writing it, the political situation of Florence in particular and then those of Italy and Europe in general in that era. If you check first about how much of those assumptions are still applicable to the world as it currently is—” Darcy backpedalled over her words quickly when she realised what she said,

“—or how much it’s applicable to _your_ world as it is right now, you’d know which ones need to be modified and which ones you could use as is.”

There was a sharp glint in his eyes and she did wonder a little, but in she was undeterred in the end. _There was nothing wrong with the knowledge—the book could be easily found online, dammit, its copyright expired years ago_. It wasn’t as if she was spilling some state secrets or endangering secret agents, was it? Also, _Il Prince_ certainly _did not_ advise wholesale slaughter of populations.

Machiavelli was a classy guy like that.

“Considering _your_ last efforts in politics didn’t end well, I figured you’d need all the help you can get,” Darcy jabbed back, before he could make any insinuations that she gave him all these advices because she _wanted_ him to take over earth.

It placed her at the end of a freezing look. It just annoyed her further that he thought she could be silenced with that and her lack of a brain-to-mouth filter certainly didn’t help.

“Seriously, why were you attacking New York in the first place? What sort of strategic goal you were trying to achieve with that, huh? What was your first step in consolidating your rule? I’ve been here for a while and I have never heard anyone mention it even once or anyone trying to analyse it other than ‘he’s a raving lunatic’. I’m going to go with the most obvious guess of you not having _any_ goal when you did it.”

“Perhaps the purpose is merely beyond your small minds to comprehend, and the invasion was merely a small piece of a larger plan,” he countered. One of his hands was touching her knee in a distracting way.

She ignored his statement with the ease of one who was too used running her mouth against other people. That condescending look? She’d gotten worse from trust-fund brats when they heard where she grew up in. She’d heard people mutter ‘trailer trash’ behind her. Darcy never gave a damn about what they thought and never bothered to hide it either.

“Ha! _Ad hominem_ is a brain fart you use against newbie debaters, Dude—you’re not going to lead me away with that. Give me something with actual _meat_ that could blow my arguments out of the water or admit your loss. I mean, why an all-out invasion instead of something more subtle and well-planned? There are just too many ways it could go wrong too quickly without giving you enough time to modify it on the go.” Darcy was on a roll.

“For example, what the _fuck_ is your _casus belli_?”

“I don’t need a cause of war to bring ants in line.” He pointed out the insignificance of her species _yet again_. It was getting a bit stale, actually.

She rolled her eyes. He was just begging for another verbal trap like the horsefucker one, but she wasn’t in a patient mood to set one up right now. Someone who thinks humans are nothing but chattel would _not_ be interested in what they wrote at all.

“You don’t believe that horse shit.” She said bluntly, steamrolling him with her words.

“I have proofs. Let’s just pretend for now that _I_ don’t believe _you_ believe that bullshit and move on. We can have _that_ argument tomorrow morning if you want to, because I’m sure I can obliterate it even with only half a brain awake. Now, let me just say that there _are_ nation-states on Earth, with working governments, and you _damn well_ need a cause of war to go to war against them.”

She hadn’t realised that she still had more residual anger on New York than she thought she had. Loki might turn her into a toad, considering how the cold looks she was getting right now. The hairs at the back of her arms were standing due to the tense prickling, staticky feel in the air.

This was when she realised several things:

  1. It was probably his magic,
  2. She was having doubts that his cuffs held his magic back that much, and,
  3. She _still_ did not consider leaving as the better option.



Maybe her weirdness meter just wasn’t properly calibrated like other people’s after all the crap she’d been through.

“Now, you don’t have a fucking proper _cause of war_ that most sane people could accept! And don’t tell me you don’t _know_ about that, because I can’t believe _you_ would’ve missed it if you studied politics. A weird-ass cause of war made the invasion of New York just consolidated everyone else’s position on earth to default as _against you_.”

She scoffed. “Presenting everyone else with a common enemy to move against? _Not smart_."

“It wouldn’t have mattered if they are too afraid to move. You Midgardians are a querulous lot, prone to warring against yourselves and divided in minor differences. A well placed force of adequate discipline moving with decisive speed would have been able to bring the whole world in line,” Loki said. She noted how he gripped her left calf for a second before he pulled himself back.

She nodded, preparing to throw him a small bone with her opinion before giving her next hit.

“I would actually agree with you on the last part, _in theory_. But if you wanted to do that, you wouldn’t have hit New York first.” She answered.

“Why not?”

“It’s a symbolic and important city,” Darcy said.

“Yet it is for precisely that reason that morale would have suffered greatly if it had fallen.”

“ _Or_ it would have been the symbol for martyrdom, a rallying point. As a matter of fact, it _did_ , even before it fell. We _still_ managed to rally a force to beat you back. So you know what my next guess is? Maybe you actually moved in with bad intel or no intel at all and don’t know what earth is like nowadays.”

She could totally speak SHIELD agent lingo after hanging around enough of them for some time. The fact that Loki seemed to be sucking a lot of lemons by the expression on his face meant she was hitting all bullseyes right now—never mind that she could _feel_ all the hairs at the back of her neck standing at this point. The bastard somehow still managed to loom next to her even when he was sitting down, all coiled power within his lean frame. It was just too bad for her that she knew how well he could use them from all those hours on the bed. Her libido was probably the one she could blame for shutting off any of her survival instinct around him.

_Maybe you should just shut up, Darce?_

_Hell no. Someone should make him face his bullshit. Why not me?_

_Fuck him until he forgets everything but your name?_ A third and crazier voice piped up. Darcy soundly ignored it.

“So, the reckless attacks? Dude, that doesn’t sound like you either—no offence meant to Thor, but that’s his _modus operandi_ in general. He’s getting better, though.” It was clear that he took the comparison as an insult, yet she’d done it on purpose because she knew it would make him _listen_.

Darcy huffed.

“I’ve never thought much about it because at first I just thought, ‘yeah, another nutso megalomaniac attacked New York’, but then I _know_ you and I saw how intelligent you are and it just. _Does. Not. Fit_.” She looked up at him, “you’re much better at being subtle than this, Loki. It’s just…I’m having trouble seeing you and the person who attacked New York as the same person.”

He scoffed.

“Don’t project kindness to me where there is none, Miss Lewis.”

The annoyance she thought was gone went right through the roof when he was being a prickly ass. She was pissed off that he thought her that _naïve_. _Hello? Poli-sci major here. Bitch please. Derailing the argument doesn’t work on me_.

“Kindness? Are you _kidding me_? Do you actually listen to what I said? Here, let me put it in _smaller_ words so you don’t miss it. You’re intelligent, okay? You’re the only guy I knew that I can get to talk about governments and policies between sex _and make it sound interesting_. You’re a _fucking_ _genius_ , for whichever meaning you take. There. I said it, and don’t expect me to ever say it out loud again.”

She let the smug look half-settle on him before she dropped her bomb.

“Now, the guy who invaded New York? _He’s_ a first class _moron_.”

Darcy knew she was baiting him, knew it was pushing all his buttons as her voice rose up again in volume and she was right in front of his face with his fucking unfair cheekbones.

“I’m just going to ask this one last time. What _the fuck_ , was up with New York?”

His lips crashed over hers, hot and demanding and it drove her crazy. Darcy yanked his soft hair, too horny to care about anything else at this point either. As Loki pulled her into his lap, she rolled her hips without a thought and quickly discarded her blazer. She was never happier that he was experimenting with earth clothes as his buttons came undone underneath her fingers, sighing in happiness at being able to slide her palms against his bare skin. He nipped her lower lip and she was a little busy kissing the life out of him. Her hand was occupied with his belt next, while he was following her jaw line.

“You’re the only person I know whose compliment is also a blatant insult.” He growled, as frustrated as he was turned on.

Darcy would volunteer herself to help him relieve that because she was in exactly the same boat. As she placed one of his hands under her untucked shirt just under her breasts, she couldn’t help but shiver at the touch.

“Right back at you, Mr. Jerkass,” she said. It came out more as a moan than a sentence.

His hands always run a little cool, but it only made her more sensitive to him, even when he was doing nothing more but draw spirals on them. Little eddying spirals that occasionally ended with a flick of her nipples. He drank the way she arched with mesmerizing attention, as if she was the only thing worth observing in the whole world and it made her grew warmer.

Also, skirts? She still preferred jeans, but the times she had to wear them to look professional were worth Loki being able to slip his hand under her panties. She could feel him pause, the slight surprise at finding out just how wet she already was, but she cut it short with a well placed nibble of his jaw. It jarred him out of whatever thought he had and he repaid it by quickly sliding three fingers into her. That gave her more friction than usual; the sort where she was reminded she didn’t have near enough and she wanted a lot more than that. Darcy whimpered as she chased his lips, even when he seemed to be drawing back every time the kiss went brain-melting, which happened to coincide with the times he curls his fingers _just right_.

“ _Loki_ …”

“So impatient,” he chided.

His belt was undone. All she needed to do was to open the zipper, close her hand around his member and slide _down_. Then, she was in the perfect position to massage his balls and she could see clearly the moment lust knocked him breathless.

“You were _saying_?”

Actually, she wasn’t leaving him with a lot of space to say anything because she had both hands down, and they weren’t working slowly. She could even see the muscles cord in his neck for the second he held himself back. The next moment after that, he suddenly _wasn’t_. She was pushed back on the couch, a cool shimmer of magic had taken all her clothes gone except for her bra, and Loki’s hand was very solidly on her ass. His voice was the smoothest of glide of silk over her spine.

“I was saying that I am going to pound you until you can’t walk. Unless you disagree with it?” It was a rhetorical question. He leaned back but made no move to remove himself from his position over her. She could smell his dizzying scent and it sent a jolt of heat into the apex of her thighs. It made her lightheaded. All she wanted to do now was make sure it was over every inch of her skin.

Darcy cleared her throat, her voice raw, “Nope. No problems with that here.”

They were all the words that he needed. Their lips met again with a burning intensity, but by the way she was pulling his hair, she was in much the same state. For every kiss she greedily took she wrangled at least two more because, damn, he could use his tongue in ways that were probably outlawed in several worlds and was worth her body weight in gold in several others. He took every moan he heard from her as a sign that he could still do _better_.

He entered her without preamble, hard and fast, and was exactly the way she wanted it to be right now and she had no trouble matching it and upping the ante. From his knife-edge grin, he had to have figured out what she was doing, but with Loki being Loki, there was no way he was backing down from a challenge. She left scratches down his back every time the right spot to make her mind lose all coherent thoughts and she was sure she had love bites everywhere, the slight hint of pain made the pleasure all that sweeter. _And wow, that godly stamina sure came in handy_. Bliss soared higher and higher within her and she couldn’t give a fuck about being sore at the end of the day,

She came so hard that she didn’t hold herself back when bit his shoulder down. In any other guy she’d slept with, they would’ve yelped unless they were a masochist, and it would definitely leave a livid bruise. In this case, she’d seen enough to know that his pain threshold was higher than humans and certainly healed a lot faster.

It took a while for her to come down again.

“That was…wow.”

“Your vocabulary has devolved even further.” How he said the whole sentence between gasps, she has no idea. “Unfortunately that’s scarcely a sign of anything significant.”

She banged her forehead against his collarbones for ruining her perfect afterglow. “Oh, stuff it.”

A moment later, she remembered that he can’t really speak if his mouth was occupied doing something else, and proceeded to put that theory into practise.

‘-

Darcy made it to the lab much, _much_ later, but she figured it wasn’t such a problem since it was Saturday. The skirt had been a loss and she had scrambled through her wardrobe to find a different outfit (she picked a turtleneck without hesitation—good thing she was in the habit of wearing long sleeves all the time). She had only glared at Loki when he gave her an appreciative look, because it was too obvious where _that_ would lead if she allowed it. Darcy had only managed to leave because she practically ran off from him while yelling ‘I’m late!’ Not that the bastard did anything much other than openly laugh at her.

When the lab doors slid open, Jane was still too deep in crunching numbers in her computer to immediately notice her. Darcy decided to just make coffee first, as a peace-offering of sorts.

“So, how was it going, Boss-lady?”

That startled Jane slightly. “Darcy? Oh, you came after all? I thought you were sick when you didn’t come in this morning.”

Darcy sighed. Now, for the prevarication she didn’t like. “I was a bit tired and overslept through my alarms. It’s fine, though, I feel better now. I’ll just work longer into the night as usual.”

That was how they’d always rolled; Jane didn’t care much for actual work hours. The physicist had always allowed her to fill it at whatever hours she liked—within reason, but still far more flexible than anywhere else she’d ever worked at.

“Are you sure you’re alright? If you’re not feeling well, maybe you shouldn’t force yourself.” Darcy could almost hear the worry in Jane’s tone.

“Jane, I’m _fine_. If you would go home at a reasonable hour, I’m game. If you’re staying, then someone’s going to have to assist the sciencing, right?”

Jane huffed. “I keep saying that _that_ is not a word.”

Her friend was just so easy to bait sometimes. Darcy grinned, “That is _totally_ a word, and Imma gonna keep using it, Janey.”

She answered the glare the astrophysicist sent her with her best expression of innocence. Darcy brought the pot over and poured Jane and herself some coffee

“You know you don’t have to come in for a full day on Saturday, right?” Jane asked.

“Yeah, I know. But I might want to take a break on some other day next week, so I’m just pre-empting that.” For example, she might have that extended meeting about Loki she needed to go to.

As she turned her computer on, it didn’t escape her notice that Loki hadn’t actually answered her last question. That she managed to rile him up was probably a clue in itself. If she was spot on—and she was sure of that, judging by his reaction—what held him back from confirming her? Maybe it was like Thor’s explanation, on how he did not think Loki’s behaviour in New York reflected the brother he’d known for a long time. _In that case…_

Darcy couldn’t help but remember Sarah. As her other major was psychology, several conversations on mental health had come up between them. One of those conversations was more memorable than most.

_“But why don’t people just look for help or admit that they’re sick? It’s not as if they_ wanted _to be sick, right?” Darcy asked._

_Sarah had sighed then. “Because mental health issues have been stigmatised throughout history, Darce. Even now, people still laugh at celebrity mental breakdowns and people ‘going cuckoo’, right? People see them less as sick and more like people with personal defects on them. Or that you can somehow fight mental illness with_ willpower _—and those that suffer didn’t have enough willpower in the first place and fully deserve their illnesses. People see them as somehow ‘less’ than the ‘normal’ people.”_

_“But that’s…” Darcy started, and then realised with guilt there wasn’t a good reason for people to do that, and she_ had _laughed at some outrageous celebrity news. Some of those news might have real sobering reasons behind them._

_Sarah nodded firmly._

_“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Nobody thought of it seriously unless you’ve gone through it or known someone close that did.”_

_There were talons in Sarah’s voice, its razor-sharp edges neatly sheathed due to the demands of society but unmistakably there for anyone who knew what to listen for. They were never completely gone and still within reach to be flexed out within seconds to shred anyone who’d crossed her line too far. This was one of the times when her friend stood tall and foreboding, with a certain ruthlessness that she didn’t show very often, and Darcy was genuinely worried of prying too far._

_“Let me tell you something. I had episodes of mental health problem in high school.” Sarah spoke the words so clearly that there was no way for Darcy to have misheard it as anything else. It was as carefully enunciated as a decree with the weight of the same, green eyes calmly meeting her brown ones._

_“You don’t have to tell me anything,” Darcy said quickly. Her friend smiled._

_“Oh, but I_ want _to because it’s going to make the explanation clearer. I_ do _believe in you too_ _, Darcy_ _. Making new friends could really be quite bothersome. I’m not sure I could fit it in my current schedule.” Her tone was glib and her voice pleasantly charming the way Darcy had often seen her speak with Important People. Her friend had used a well-polished New England accent._

_“Not when another senator’s son had just asked you to be his escort to a fundraising party? Rub elbows with the rich and powerful?” Sarcasm filled Darcy’s tone but she was smiling._

_“It really is difficult to be adored,” her friend finished this with an overwrought fluttering of eyelashes and Darcy chuckled. It didn’t last as long as she thought it would because once she forced herself to look deeper, she could see the way fatigue creased the corners of her friend’s eyes. They were faint, almost unnoticeable lines, but beyond that there was also the slightest and almost invisible shadow of fear. Darcy had opened her mouth before she realised it._

_“Oh Sarah…”_

_“Don’t pity me.” She said, sharply._

_Darcy snorted. “Pfffft. Pity_ you? _Are you_ kidding _me? Do I look like someone who’d bend over backwards to coddle you? I care because you’re my friend, you idiot—and don’t go flouncing away now. You need to stop letting your drooling fans get to your head.”_

_It got such a joyful laugh out of this mercurial friend of hers that it surprised Darcy. The next smile that Sarah made was warmer. It had less of the fine polished lines of her façade and more human imperfection and rough edges. It was slightly unnerving to know that she might never know about it if her friend didn’t lower it on purpose._

_Darcy spoke again. “I always thought your other major was literature, y’know? Or maybe some performance or theatre something. There’s the lit class I first met you in and all the folklore and legends stuff you keep taking.”_

_Sarah nodded, acknowledging her point._

_“I do love my stories…but well, stories will never leave me. I will always look for them long after I graduate as it is in my_ blood _and with every beat of my heart until the day I die. But this? This is something I need to do for myself.” Her friend replied._

_“So, why did I choose to take psychology as a second major?” Sarah continued. “I wanted to know my own mind. I want to recognise the things that made me myself from the things I can live without—and from the things I_ should _live without, no matter how wonderful they seemed. Some things may seem to offer me the perfect dream. Yet have I always known what their price would be? No.”_

_“I was broken, for a while, until I figured where my limits were.”_

_Her friend shrugged, too damned casual for Darcy’s taste as she continued. “Well, some people might say that I was blessed that it wasn’t anything other people could easily see—that I am still more-or-less normal or could ‘pass for normal’.” The lilt of her voice was mocking once more, but Darcy didn’t think she wanted to see her friend aim her sharp wit and civilised cruelty at herself._

_“Sarah…”_

_Her friend looked up, eyes bright, verdant and unapologetically full of life. She smiled, unconcerned for the worry that Darcy felt for her, for the sympathetic pain._

_“To answer your question, Darcy, there is an important issue with mental illnesses where it differs from physical ones. There will always be people who don’t believe you when you’re sick—and there would be those who don’t believe you when you get better.”_

_Darcy’s throat felt tight. “Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.”_

_“That is why people don’t even want to_ think _that they_ might _have a sickness of the mind, much less admit it if they do. To even consider it is to admit that you have a stain upon you in the eyes of the world.” Her voice damned the shallow world far more than the unfortunates that it crushed underfoot._

_“I decided that I could care less about the world; this is for_ me _. I wasn’t going to roll over without a fight. Through illusions untold and breakdowns unnumbered I fought my way through misunderstanding adults and found those who understand me enough to be able to help. I learned and adapted to stop the illness from destroying me, for I_ will _have my kingdom and the palaces of my mind—and they_ will _be great.”_

_Her voice had transformed the more she spoke and the storyteller Darcy always knew was inside Sarah came forth once more. The words had a formal cadence to them and the inexplicable ring of prophetic_ truth _. Darcy was reminded again of the time she watched her friend played as a faerie queen._ _Sarah could draw charisma over her like a second skin—even now i_ _t_ _was hard_ _for a passerby_ _to_ _ignore_ _her._

_“You keeping a kingdom on you somewhere?” Darcy asked casually._

_She nodded solemnly. “Yes. I had to fold it by the corners because it wouldn’t fit easily in my bag, but I suppose pouring water taken from a wishing well in a blue moon over it should be enough to stretch it out once more.”_

_Darcy grinned. Sarah could be as ridiculous as she was—the only problem was that she didn’t let just anyone see this side of her._

_“I succeeded in remaking myself after that.” Sarah stated with ease of someone choosing a muffin instead of someone who had to force herself into new habits and break old ones._

_“So, you just have to do six impossible things before breakfast, then?” Darcy asked, just as easily._

_The other brunette chuckled and her smile was lopsided and human once more. “Six improbable things, yes. That was one of the earlier mistakes my parents had with the shrink they chose. She was so_ dull _and drained the joy out of me. She could hardly tell the difference between the impossible and the_ improbable _; we drove each other crazy. She couldn’t even accept my imagination! Fortunately, I managed to weather her soul-sucking presence and escaped unscathed.”_

_“So I studied and accepted the flaws and strengths I’d only begun to understand. There were sacrifices I made, of course. There are things I’ve stopped doing and things I had to learn to do to cope. There are new routines I have to_ not _forget to make sure I_ _won’t ever_ _fall back as worse as I did then.”_

_Sarah exhaled, long and slow, but there was also relief there other than fatigue. It was how Darcy realised that her friend needed to do this too, to admit out loud what she might have only thought before and tell someone about the demons she’d fought. She saw the sombre look on Darcy’s face and waved it away regally._

_“Oh, it’s really not that bad, all things considered. Think of all those tests in fairytales, Darce. When the wolf tells you not to touch the golden cage to take the fire bird, all you have to do is_ not _touch the golden cage. When your cat tells you to take a bath and then hides your clothes, trust that he has a good idea of what he’s doing. When your crane wife asks you not to watch her weave, for the love of gods and goddesses,_ don’t _.”_

_“You just have to have better self-control than some of those heroes.” Sarah said. “See? I’ve learned many things in the process. The other is to make sure you can trust the people who are supposed to help you—if you can’t trust them,_ leave them _. Find people you can actually_ trust _. To give someone power to mend or break your mind is no small thing. It cannot be rushed or done half-heartedly.”_

_“So I can tell you to go camping with me and jump in a river naked?” Darcy asked._

_Sarah pushed back her smile. “Oh, I don’t know. You’ve never caught a mouse for me, how do I know I could trust you?”_

_Darcy chuckled._

_“In the end, I managed to come up stronger. But then again, it isn’t free, is it? I’ve paid the price for that knowledge in suffering.” The other brunette finished._

_This was a bloodletting of sorts. Darcy could see it in the faraway look in her eyes and she had the grace to let her finish it._

_“Even when you think you’re healing, there is also something even more dangerous than the prejudice of the simple-minded. There’s always…_ you _. How do you trust your mind again when it had betrayed you once before?” Sarah asked, bitter and piercing. Her hard expression and the weight of her gaze bore witness to the crucible that was her friend’s past struggles. Darcy found she had no answer._

_“It’s not an easy path, Darce. Even when one can weather the illness itself, I’ve seen enough good people,_ great people _, destroyed by that self-doubt. It’s worse when you’re alone and have no people who gift you with their love and trust to tide you over when you have none_ _for_ _yourself.”_

_“I was lucky that way—some people, not so much.”_

_The wind stirred restlessly around them in the park, picking up fallen leaves in the process. Sarah picked one up and traced its skeletal veins with more attention than Darcy thought it warranted. She looked up again after a while._

_“Does that explain things?” Her friend asked, much calmer than Darcy herself was feeling._

_Darcy could only nod. There was just so much about her friend that she needed to absorb. “Yes.”_

_“So, now you know that I carry such stain on myself and despite all the people who say they’re impressed by me, I think I should come up with a new catch phrase.” She was completely flippant._

_“Come forth, dear public! Love me, mock me and despair!” Sarah threw her arms wide open. It was a gauntlet slapped down to the world with a brazen openness, uncaring of the people passing close to them in the park that gave them perplexed looks. Some find themselves looking without even realising it, caught up in her charm. She merely smiled wide and raised an eyebrow with a light bow._

_Sarah always had such a theatrical bent—this time Darcy didn’t even bother to hold back from huffing and rolling her eyes, enjoying the chuckles that came with it._

_But Darcy also knew all about wounds that were slow to heal, wounds that are so old you’ve learned to smile and laugh in spite of it because the other choice was not to live at all and let the pain win. She knew well enough how humour could be the strongest form of armour. The price of her answer—Sarah’s unwitting confidence—felt a little too much for Darcy, even when she knew her friend didn’t mind_.

_“You know that it’s not, don’t you?” she asked, so seriously that it unbalanced her more thespian company. Her eyes widened._

_“Not what?”_

_“Not a stain. It’s just a part of you, a colourful part of your history.”_

_The persona fell apart again. All she could see was her friend who was merely two years older than her filled with hope that she had vainly tried to never have, and Darcy grabbed her into a fierce hug. Sarah didn’t avoid her at all and hugged her back just as tightly. “If anyone actually mocked you, I’ll be having_ words _with them.”_

_Sarah laughed again, even if this one was softer and Darcy was almost sure her voice wavered at the edges. “With your knuckles, I suppose? Oh Slugger, I really need to have a word about your habit of punching people—”_

_“That was just freshman year, Spike!” Darcy yelped. Sarah breezily ignored the nickname Darcy had come up with ages ago (just to have something to throw back once Sarah heard Tory call her ‘Slugger’)._

_“Though you_ do _punch them so well that I really can’t complain—”_

_“Everyone agreed I did my best to avoid him before that! Nobody indicted me. Now, I only pour beer over their heads or prank them!”_

_Sarah was still grinning, her eyes oddly bright, but Darcy found that she didn’t mind that at all if it kept her friend from brooding._

Maybe it was a good idea to catch up again with her too—she’d gotten carried away in the rapid rush of Jane’s research that she dropped the ball on many other things, including keeping in touch with old friends.

Still, the underlying question remained. What had happened to make Loki think crashing into New York with an invading army as a good idea?

‘-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First mention of Machiavelli! Can't help being hyper about my first excuse for writing the story. Next chapter updates at next week.
> 
> I definitely made Sarah’s line ‘Love me, mock me and despair!’ a loose echo to last Galadriel’s line in _Lord of the Rings_ when she was tested with the One Ring. I’m including the beginning of the lines for clarity, while the relevant quote is the one at the end. The rest are skipped for brevity’s sake: 
> 
> _“In place of the Dark Lord you will set up a Queen. And I shall not be dark, but beautiful and terrible as the Morning and the Night! …_  
>  _…All shall love me and despair!”_
> 
>  
> 
> Random glossary:
> 
> **_Ad hominem_ :** Attacking your opponent's character instead of their argument.
> 
> **_Casus belli_ :** Cause of war. I think that's pretty clear
> 
>    
>  **On OCs:**
> 
> So, here’s an OC whose existence I’ve hinted at for a while. I think it's pretty necessary to illustrate how Darcy's past company contributed to her drive to understand people and take a leap of faith in trusting them. I am aware that some of my readers may have some choice comments to say to me about this OC, this fellow poli-sci major from Darcy’s past because she seems _oddly_ familiar. Come on, you know who you are, have at it ;)
> 
> The actress that plays her in my head is Jennifer Connelly (when she's in her mid-twenties, to match Sarah's age in the story).


	14. XIV. Experiments, Part 1 (Whiling the Weekend Away)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Scenes from the apartment of a political science graduate and the laboratory of one Dr. Jane Foster. Darcy believes that knowledge is power. News updates. Letters written. Jane does science. Loki plays a game. Everyone is running an experiment of their own, whether they realise it or not._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Summary is for all the chapters titled 'Experiment', not just Part 1)
> 
> Pretty calm and domestic chapter, all things considered. Also, Machiavelli's _Il Prince_ gets discussed!

### XIV. Experiments, Part 1 (Whiling the Weekend Away)

Saturday night had wiped Darcy out. When she reached her apartment, she’d barely noticed the pieces of clothing she was dropping around her room, right before she fell face first on her bed. She hadn’t crawled further from her first spot before giving up and decided to just close her eyes. Darcy fell asleep hugging her velociraptor plushie.

She was pretty damn sure she went to bed alone, though.

This morning, Loki was sitting on his side of the bed, reading her book over the forest green sheets. _I think I’m seeing a pattern here somehow_. Yet she _did_ give him permission to drop in at anytime, didn’t she? If he chose to do so at an ungodly hour of the morning unlike reasonable people and considered the bed a great place to hang out at, well, since when was he _normal_?

In the end, Darcy did what she had wanted to do in the first place: rollover and sleep again. _What are Sunday mornings for but to sleep-in?_

She had just reached the fluffiness of the half-unconscious when Loki’s voice interfered.

“When one acquires a state accustomed to living under its own laws and freedom, one of the ways Machiavelli advices on keeping it under one’s commands is to ruin it,” Loki stated.

Darcy opened a bleary eye in his direction. “Shit, man, are we having this conversation now? I still wanna sleep.”

He raised his shoulders in a graceful shrug. “Suit yourself.”

“I _can’t_ , not when you’ve just inserted an earworm with that sentence! What was that supposed to mean?” She complained. One of his hands was absently following the lines in an azure scarf of hers laid on his lap. Its crocheted pattern reminded her of waves. _I’m pretty sure that’s not a cat_ , a half-asleep part of her brain noted hazily. She hugged Vicky the velociraptor again and tried to sleep once more.

“I am merely observing that it is an interesting advice. You _have_ read the book you recommended to me, haven’t you?”

“Several times,” she muttered into her pillow. “Yeah, he did say that, but that was _one_ advice out of _three_ , and you haven’t mentioned the other two: you could also live there to find and troubleshoot any problems that arise quickly, or you could establish an oligarchy friendly to you. What’s unclear about that?”

“Hmmmm.”

She turned her back to him. “Whatever. I’m sleeping again.”

“The book is surprisingly insightful.”

She snorted after rubbing her face. “Of course it is. I might know jack shit about stars, but I know my governments. Also, this is just the beginning. There are a lot more stuff to know beyond that, but ‘ _The Prince_ ’ really is a concise primer—once you’ve taken into account his assumptions and the sort of world he lives in.”

“One might suspect that you _do_ want to see me rule Midgard.” His voice was a tad too innocent. She gave up on sleeping and rolled on her other side to face him. He wore what she supposed passed for pyjamas in Asgard. Darcy tried to ignore the fact that she was only wearing tank top and boy shorts.

“You _do_ know we’re not under one government, right? Though if you want to try running as the US president—never mind that you can’t do it since you’re not born a citizen—I’m just going to give you my best wishes. The expectations people have for the job sucks, on a good day, and you don’t want to know what it feels like on bad days.”

“Ruling by conquest would be much simpler,” he stated. The sentence was plain; she was certain he was fishing for a reaction and she wasn’t going to disappoint. She used Vicky to point at him.

“Ha! You might think so, but when the people are used to freedom, liberty would always be the watchword in their rebellion and they will _never forget_ , maybe not even after a _hundred years_. You should’ve already gone through that part by now—it’s in the first half of the book,” she said, warming up to the topic.

Usually, she would’ve been a bit self-conscious looking rumpled in front of someone she was sleeping with, but she figured out that he’d had seen her messy often enough by now. If it hadn’t deterred him yet, it wouldn’t deter him any time soon. He hadn’t even blinked at seeing the plush toys she resolutely left on her bed. So, _of course_ it was more important for her to distract him from any ham-fisted effort of conquest (seriously, New York and even Puente Antiguo was really crude for him).

“If you rule by the consent of the people, though, if you’ve earned their respects and proven how competent you are? Your enemy can oust you from the chair, they can kick you out of the city and country and they could try to _exterminate_ you, but the people _will_ always try to get you _back_. You are the figurehead of the resistance and the usurper will always sit uneasily for as long as you live. If you’ve read The Prince back-to-back, you’d remember that he’d said that too.”

“ _That_ is the sort of loyalty that a great ruler has, and it is not one that can be bought or manufactured. _That_ is why I studied political science in the first place.”

She had almost swiped the book out of his hands in her enthusiasm. Loki caught the errant limb by the wrist, plucked the plushie from her hand and placed it to the side before carefully holding her hand down. Now, it rested on top of her own scarf and his fingers were laid right against her pulse. Ever since she spoke, his green eyes had never wavered from hers.

“And you think you have what it takes to be one?” He asked. She wondered if there would be a time when his voice wouldn’t make her want to drop on his lap.

“Oh, I _know_ what it takes to be one.” She said, firmer than she’d ever said anything. “I think anyone who studied politics after a while will know at least the basics of it—it’s just that it’s a challenge. It’s definitely not a path for the gutless or witless; you have to accept the fact that there’s just no way to please everybody. It takes hard work for sure, but it would be worth it.”

“Why not take the opportunity to be one, then?”

She snorted. “Me? What do I have? I don’t look impressive to people. I don’t have the pedigree and family connections everyone says they don’t care about but still pay attention to. It still makes a difference in terms of resources. I’d be happy enough if I could advise someone else to be one.”

It was one of the strangest sights she’d seen so far; to see Loki’s expression doubting the statement about her own insignificance. The wings of hope for something that she’d rather not name fluttered inside her.

“Hey, it’s _true_.”

“When you are an associate of the Avengers now? I find that hard to believe.”

She paused, thinking over that. “I don’t know. Maybe. I’ve never really thought over it until now, but you do know that I’m just a low level staff, right? There are probably _thousands_ of people working on this building alone.”

“And how many knew the Avengers personally?”

“I don’t—”

She stopped when Loki laid a finger over her lips, the light touch startling her out of her thoughts.

“You do.”

Darcy sighed. “But that does not a politician make. I haven’t had enough experience yet for people to become confident in me—no known track records or anything. I just graduated a few years ago so I can understand that. I’m not really complaining about it, y’know?”

He seemed to be still sceptical. “This is going to be one of those things about democracy isn’t it? Something _inconvenient_ that I will hardly find any usefulness from.”

“Not really, just bureaucracy.” She defended. _Hey, democracy didn’t really mean ineffiency!_

…bureaucratic mishaps were due to the particular implementation of democracy, anyway. _Shit, now I sound like I’m making_ excuses _than valid reasons_. Loki continued.

“And yet your democracy uses it anyway. It is inefficient at picking the talented. In Asgard, a promising scholar in statecraft would have the palace’s library at her disposal and a post befitting of her abilities.”

While her face was getting a bit warm from how his thumb traced her lips that were slowly parting for him. All her arguments melted away into gibberish under his intense stare. She bolted straight up and away from him, all the way to the bookshelves lining the walls of her bedroom.

“Alright, since we’re talking about good and bad rulers, I might as well pick several examples!” Darcy tried not to cringe inwardly at the preppiness in her voice. _Way_ to make her nervousness obvious. “I’m sure I’ve got the books somewhere. Let’s start with…oh, your bad decision number two, other than New York. Stuttgart. I mean, why the _hell_ would you start with Germany? That’s, like, one of the _worst_ places you could choose to make your announcement to be a dictator.”

Loki let her talk as much as she wanted, his gaze unwavering from her; a hunter observing its prey from above in the trees, all patient fangs and scales. The slight tilt of his lips told her that he knew why exactly she was filling her arms with books and standing across the room from him, but he decided to humour her for now.

For Darcy, the scariest part of it was how she couldn’t decide whether she was happy for it or disappointed.

“So, you were about to recommend me the best place to announce myself as dictator of Midgard?”

“Well there’s—no! Argh, there’s no good place to do that!” She ignored the full smirk on his face. “Again, I refer to that chapter of _The Prince_ about _not_ oppressing people. But if we were doing this as an _intellectual exercise—_ ”

“Of course,” he said, suspiciously agreeable.

“—then Germany is the _worst_ place to do that because of the collective trauma suffered by the people more than half a century ago thanks to a dictator who really sucks _balls_ —and what you did only made people think that you might be him version _two_. The best thing you could learn from Hitler is how to _not_ do the shit he did. The great war he was involved in still had its echoes felt nowadays. You can still see it in the landscape too.” She remembered all those bombed out ruins she saw when she was passing Germany while backpacking some years ago.

Darcy dropped William Shirer’s _The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich_ she got from a garage sale on the bed along with an English _Mein Kampf_ she forgot she had (same garage sale). She slid it over to Loki’s side.

“And of course, there’s the whole thing about Russia under Stalin. That’s another horror show. I’ve got a primer for it somewhere…ha! Here.”

She made sure she got Bismarck’s biography as well for symmetry’s sake (look, a different sort of Germans!) She dithered and then dropped von Rochau’s seminal work on as well for completeness. Anyways, the German chancellor might be a little on the ruthless side for her taste, but he was still undoubtedly one of the best players of _realpolitik_ in the ever-changing chess board of multilateral diplomacy. There’s a lot that could inspire Loki.

_Including being nice to humans if his long-term plan was to rule over them_ , a canny side of her noted. _Give us a hundred years or so, and most would’ve gotten over his attempted invasion, especially if his approach has changed._

She blinked. _Huh, really?_

Yet even as she asked the question to herself, she knew it was true. _Look at how completely okay Germany and the USA or Germany and Britain were now_.

So, what was she worried about? Compared to his failure in New York, anything he got from the Iron Chancellor could only be an improvement.

As Darcy placed her head back on her pillow, Loki was still reading her books, on her bed, occasionally writing to a scroll he had retrieved from somewhere. The sound of his pen scratching the parchment soothed her to sleep. She did not quite notice that her hand was still in Loki’s lap, both entangled with her scarf. Nor did she notice that she’d moved closer to him.

‘-

Darcy woke up at some time well past noon by her grumbling stomach, the sun right in her eyes. She would have cursed it or her stomach immediately, but her eyes caught at the figure not far from her. Loki still sat; his head bowed with books opened and spread around him. His cursive handwriting had filled the scroll by a foot or two. Michelangelo could’ve made a statue out of him and people would stand for hours reaching for the gist of its understated beauty. He was more Odysseus than Achilles, but then she’d always thought of Achilles as a narcissistic asshole.

She left him to go to the bathroom—because she didn’t mind ogling, but she drew the line at mooning. That was just embarrassing. When she came out, she saw he was still scribbling.

“What do you want to have for lunch? I’m in the mood for sushi.” She asked.

“Hmm?”

She waited, but he didn’t say anything more afterwards. Since he was still too distracted to answer, she figured that sushi should be good enough. She ordered some before rolling around on the bed, reading until the delivery rang her door.

“Oooh, the food’s here!”

Darcy rushed out, not caring if she had looked like roadrunner’s ape cousin in the process, and unwrapped the sushi as quickly as she could. When she noticed that she was still alone in the living room, she poked her head back into her bedroom. Loki didn’t even seem to have heard her. He had the familiar distracted look of someone too deep in what they were working on to care about their surroundings. It was so like Jane’s that she didn’t even think twice before she piled up food on a plate for him and left some drinks on the side table. Darcy went through her own meal quickly with her attention on her StarkPad.

A quarter of an hour later, she saw the plate was still untouched. “Loki, you haven’t eaten lunch.”

She couldn’t even make out the words that he murmured.

Half an hour after that, she poked him in the ribs several times when she saw he hadn’t touched his food at all—he grudgingly complied and finished his food almost without looking at it. Sometimes Loki would ask her random questions as he read between her books or the ones he’d opened in his StarkPad. Darcy would reply while absentmindedly browsing.

This week’s most significant headlines from several news sources brought her:

_Venture Capitals Line Up to Back Reed Richard’s Lab  
University of Washington’s Star Inventor Patents Exotic Semi-conductors_

_New York, the Reconstruction—City Survives and Thrives_

_Doomberg Showing More Volcanic Activity_  
Balkan Airports Still Closed  
Everything You Need to Know About Hotspot Volcanoes (and more!)

_Denver Quarantine Enters Second Month_  
CDC Unclear about Progress  
Medical Researcher Barred from Gaining Denver Sample Due to ‘Insufficient Clearance’

_Extreme Weather Events Reach Record Numbers  
This Year’s Gulfstream Moves Farther Out_

Reed Richards, huh? Now where had she heard about him before? Oh, he was _that guy_ with the friendly and complicated rivalry with Tony, wasn’t he? They say that whenever Tony Stark and Reed Richards decided to compete at creating something, the related industry would experience a decade’s worth of technological progress in the span of three years thanks to the contribution and drive of both geniuses. _Definitely_ not her field. She skimmed over the first article and skipped the rest on that topic.

New York will always be New York; a place more resilient than a cockroach and tougher than old boots—Darcy had to admit that she had a growing soft spot for the city and its people now.

There were discussions as to what the ‘minor’ volcanic eruption in Latveria meant for next year’s weather (cooler summers), but as many said, that was for _next year_. It won’t contribute to any cooling this year. Others pointed out that it had been active since _last year_ , though there hadn’t been any eruption until the recent months. Experts got caught up in the (usual) round of arguments about whether the recent spate of extreme weather events would last and if it could still get any worse (Darcy privately thought that things could _always_ get worse—the first thing she learned about working with dimensional rifts and other weird shit is to never yell that out loud. Shit happens). People in Oklahoma seemed to barely even notice it. She supposed she could start getting out her cold weather clothes.

Darcy moved on to less significant news.

_Mother Cat Raises a Rainbow Tribe_

The cat was fostering a duckling and a puppy at the same time as her kittens and Darcy cooed at the pics, ignoring the strange looks that Loki sent in her direction. The deadlock in Congress about a particular bill was only going to depress her than not, so she skipped it. She had barely read on when a minor headline caused her to just blankly stare for five seconds:

_Dr. Strange Assists the Oriental Institute_

That caught her attention.

She skimmed the article quickly. What the heck was the wizard doing in University of Chicago’s Middle-Eastern research centre? Strangely enough (pun not intended), he was to be involved in a _study_ , not simply as a donor or a public face or anything. Darcy couldn’t help her curiosity, she googled it. She clicked its website and read the list of its current projects and exhibits. She groaned quietly.

_Come on, people! So it’s completely_ normal _that Dr. Strange is_ suddenly _studying Akkadian inscriptions too, after_ that _Akkadian cup he brought around to Stark Tower? I thought he was a brain doctor! Want to bet that he’s actually shadowing yet_ another _display? Because some unknown artefact thief on the prowl?_ Apparently not, because no news outlets made any mention about it.

She looked up the name of all the Near East civilisations (As a whole, they were Mesopotamians, Google informed her. Okay, got that. She also looked up the different civilisations names). She tried looking up all the recent news related to those keywords.

_Nineveh and New York – a Tale of Two Cities_

This one informed her of _another_ archaeological exhibit interestingly allocating time and effort to be displayed in (yet again) Stark Tower. For ‘interdisciplinary purposes’.

She snorted. _Interdisciplinary my ass—if by interdisciplinary meant being in the middle of a tug-of-war between supervillains’_ and _superheroes’, it might work_. She didn’t believe that it was coincidence at all that got the exhibit to drop in here. It was probably Tony’s brand new and sizzling Tower ward—placed by Strange himself—that would keep all the unsavoury magic wielders out. It wasn’t as if Dr. Strange could be in two places at the same time, could he?

It was kinda sad how she wasn’t even surprised that the probable reason behind the sudden detour wasn’t even hinted in the media except for really fringe conspiracy theory people. She wondered if the exhibit’s staff even knew and pitied the poor sods. _Seriously, no other mentions that there might be a connection_.

Maybe there had been a cover up? _Wait, am I seriously considering conspiracy theories as_ actual _explanations?_ Wow, she must be getting really desperate for a solid lead.

She sighed and called it a day. What could she do about it, stake out the artefact thief? _Pffft_ , like she had any superpowers of her own at her beck and call. _No._ This was the end of her meagre detective work, just to satisfy her own curiosity.

After that, she was mostly scrolling through her pinned recipes or faved outfits on Pinterest.

There were some really pretty high heels, not that she was seriously considering wearing them, though. She’d take her worn pair of Nikes over most of them any day of the week—she’d even take them with a dress if she was pretty sure she can hide them under the skirts. Sometimes when he was bored, he’d steal glances at what pictures she was collecting and comment on them.

Sometimes Loki’s questions were probing enough that she left her browsing for some time to answer or to go off to retrieve more books. Her bed was turning into a reading table at this rate. When she was really, really bored, she thought she might as well pick up a recommendation one of her friends had given some time ago and check out the first few episodes of _Boardwalk Empire_.

‘-

Darcy curled around her velociraptor plush toy on the bed. _Sorry Rainbow Dash, I’ll snuggle with you tomorrow_ , she vowed privately, because she believed in being Fair and Balanced. That was forgotten a moment later as she was more focused on her cell phone as she sent a message to Jane.

_Janey! Whatcha doin’? (You better be out with Thor and_ not _in the lab. Or else)_.

The reply came not ten minutes later. Darcy smirked. That told her enough that Jane _wasn’t_ in the lab.

_Of course not! I went to the Museum of Natural History with Thor. :p_

It wasn’t the most conventional of dates, but as long as they were going out, Darcy counted that as a win for work-life balance. Just for thoroughness’ sake, she sent Jane links to the schedules of current Broadway shows. Then, she remembered that the Natural History Museum meant _dinosaurs_. As someone who never quite outgrown her dinosaur phase when she was a kid, Darcy had that common ground with Sarah’s little brother. She typed another message to Jane.

_Could you get me some dino family tree poster from the souvenir shop? And maybe something else as well if you find anything a twelve-year-old would find interesting. I’ll owe you one, promise. I know a lil’ bro who’d love to have it._

Jane’s reply was prompt this time.

_A cladogram, you mean? Gladly—don’t worry, it’s on me. You gave me sandwiches for lunch and half the time you forgot to ask me to pay! Anyway, you had_ another _brother? How come I never knew?_

Darcy snorted.

_Sammiches, quiches, doesn’t matter. Technically, he’s my friend’s younger brother, but me and Sarah stayed over each other’s houses often enough that the brat might as well be. Long story, tell you later_.

Speaking of Sarah’s family… it has been a while since she gave her friends any news. After waffling for a while, Darcy took a deep breath and decided to just bite the bullet. She turned on her netbook, opened Tor browser and accessed her lesser-known and encrypted email address from there:

  _qclubs@mailbox.org_

(She supposed she _could_ install the client to her StarkPad, but eh, information security meant there was no way she was going to use hardware whose integrity she couldn’t swear for—no hard feelings for Tony).

She faltered, staring at it without knowing what to write. The empty page mocked her. Darcy sighed.

She worried if it would be too weird, but wasn’t it better to just try than not do anything? She began typing by ignoring whatever worries and just plunged on.

_Hey Spike, how’re you doing? Hope things are going well for you. Is the lil’ bro still pranking people from trees? Last I heard he has ambitions on having his own Jurassic Park. Tell me if he tried catching frogs to turn into dinosaurs again. I’m going to send him preserved meat of mutated frogs and chickens from the labs here for DNA samples (I’m sure it’s not that hard to get into the bio labs). Also, have the babies begun running around yet? Your hands must be really full with your siblings once they did. My condolences. On my side of things, Tory’s fine, he’s teaching instead of being deployed. I haven’t told him the details of the current shenanigans I go through, though. Wouldn’t want him to worry too much—you know how much of a big brother he is, and things aren’t as bad as it may seem from the outside._

Okay, that covered family. Should she ask about the guy who Sarah seems to always be surreptitiously arguing with on the phone or over Skype in her room? (For some reason, the snippets of their arguments that she’d overheard from the other side of the door already sounds more like habitual sniping than anything done with real rancour). _Nah_. She wanted to know how her friend was doing, not get several paragraph of her complaint about ‘that rat bastard’, no matter how entertaining it would be.

_I’m not making this any clearer, am I? Sorry. Lemme backtrack a bit._

_You see, you wouldn’t_ believe _what happened to me. I sort of wanted your opinion on stuff. Not that I can name names or places, because, eh, non-disclosure agreements (who would’ve thought I’d managed to snag a job with that sort of security? But yeah, weirder things have happened). I can still give you the outline._

_This all began when I took that last-ditch internship on my last year. Yeah, the science one, the one you said I was crazy to take because I don’t even like calculus that much. To be honest, it_ had _been a crazy internship, including the time when we went on several international trips, but seeing where I am now, it’s totally worth it. Yes to the running and ducking, and yes to dodging the battle on the street. You know when Oppenheimer said ‘I have become Death, destroyer of worlds’? Well, I’ll make sure that J will come up with some line that’s just as awesome when she has the opportunity to go public with it—because she does research that’s just as world changing. _

_Why do you think I’m muzzled with an NDA?_

_So you see, this is why I’m sending you an email instead of calling—I work at really weird hours now. The last thing I wanted to do is to call you in the middle of the night._

_How did I, a non-hard-science major, get dragged into this? Simple—I know too much, got involved with too many ‘Incidents’. They can’t rest easy if I work far from them and I don’t think I’d ever be entirely free from surveillance from now on. I could try to get away, but eh, wanna bet that my life would go tragicomic after that? And that’s in the best case scenario that doesn’t involve charges of_ treason _and_ solitary confinement _. Or, I could find a way to survive without compromising my ideals and maybe gain more power to do something good._

_Obviously, you know which path I’d take, because I know which path_ you’d _take. That was why I stayed working for J._

_I know you’d ask me why I’d want to do that. We’re both too cynical to easily trust anyone in power or with power without actually knowing the constraints and oversight that they have—but we’ve always been knee deep in political crap. J, on the other hand, doesn’t exactly_ do _poli-sci—which makes sense, given that her life is_ all _rocket science. Still, somebody’s got to be there to point out the worst case scenarios of different sorts of people getting their hands on her work to her._

_So yeah, I’m her Voice of Paranoia TM._

_Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining about where I am, really. All things considered, I definitely ended up riding the gravy train. You could ask Mom if you ever happen to drop by anywhere close, she could tell you the public side of what I do. Still, I kinda missed having someone else to bounce ideas about the political implications of Stuff (I’m surrounded by engineers and physicists here, help!)_

_Also, the whole power tends to corrupt, thing? Well, I’m right in the middle of a lot of powerful people as well as people holding a lot of power. This place is practically a natural experiment to see what happens under those conditions. We could do a long-term study! People need to be informed about just how much power these people wield, even if we can’t publish it to the wider public, at least someone knows._

_Seriously, we have_ got _to try arranging your security clearance here some day that you’re free. I can promise that we’d have a blast._

_Wait, where was I? Oh, yeah, the internship that turned into a real job. The gist of it is this; J’s research got us tangled up with some powerful but unstable world power with an interest in it. To cut the story short, there are factions helping us secure it and another who sort-of attacked US interest. Yeah, you’ve_ definitely _heard about it in the media, so I’m not going to give any details._

_You know how a lot of countries, especially ones with unstable histories, may_ look _like they have a democracy, but the presidents or premiers or prime ministers only seem to come from the same bunch of last names? And that what they have is a subtler form of oligarchy? The nation state that we got involved with was like that. (On a bleaker note, the US looks like it’s drifting that way too, but that’s a rant for another day). To complicate matters, the different factions we tangled with involved Son A (Alpha) and Son O (Omega) of the current head of the nation._

_As far as I know, A is considered as practically the heir by everyone, and O has been playing second fiddle to him for as long as he lived. It did not help matters that they’re as different as night and day from each other._

_…_

_Also, you would not_ believe _who I managed to talk to. Pepper Potts! Yes, it’s_ the _Pepper Potts! She’s everything we thought she could be and just as sharp. And you know what, she gave me a job offer! Okay, let’s see if I can tell this from the very beginning…_

_…_

_Man, I really miss our college days. Wish you were here._

_~ Q_ _♣_

She continued on for a while. If it was printed out, the letter would’ve taken three pages. When that was done, she decided to bite the bullet and write another one to her brother at the same time. She really had no excuse to, now that she’d written Sarah an email.

_To: Thornton Lewis_

_Yo, Tory, remember your most beautiful sister? Sorry if you haven’t heard from me for a while. My job has a really crazy schedule at times…_

All things considered, it was a surprisingly comfortable way to pass a lazy afternoon.

‘-

Later on, Darcy decided to try cooking one of the few recipes she could actually cook—Southern-style fried chicken (thanks to her mother). It was a guess as to how high anyone’s cholesterol was going to shoot up after eating a bucket of it, but she considered it worth bringing out for special occasions. Having a Norse god for dinner could be considered as an extraordinary event, she supposed. From the way he and Thor ate, she suspected he was one of the beings that could probably burn through normal meals like they were finger foods.

“I’m making fried chicken for dinner!” Darcy announced. The other occupant of the bed barely reacted other than a wordless grunt. He had somehow taken over two thirds of it with books and notes in just an hour or so and it was giving her flashbacks to finals month in college.

“Loki? No complaints?”

He looked up. “What is that racket about?”

She rolled her eyes. “Chicken. Fried chicken for dinner.”

He shrugged—Darcy noticed that he was actually writing with his left _and_ right hands, on two different scrolls. He was only commenting on his earlier notes, or copies of texts instead of writing long passages of his own thoughts, so she supposed he was in some sort of autopilot. Still, it was plenty impressive. Darcy went out to buy the ingredients. It wasn’t as if Loki was going to miss her, not when he was still going through her books at the speed she finished trashy historical romances. She balanced all the deep fried food by serving salad, lots of it.

A few hours later, she counted it as her victory when he drifted out of the bedroom with a book in hand as the scent of fried chicken filled the air. He cleaned out a few pounds worth of chicken by the end of the night.

(Thank Tony and SI for corporate expense accounts was all she was saying).

Darcy hadn’t really realised how much she missed the easily available companionship from her college days as well as conversations that could actually challenge her mind until she and Loki were debating _hypothetical_ improvements to Asgard’s government. In the middle of it all, an intense feeling of déjà vu washed over her, and Darcy realised why; this was just like the times when she and Sarah would take their turn to host dinners for other poli-sci kids in their circle of friends. They’d talk about everything and nothing all night long.

That reminded her of how she’d been referencing Narnia more than once and dug out all seven books from some corner of her bookshelves before dropping them on the table in front of him. He seemed curious, but didn’t say anything as he picked up the first book to read.

(Wait, no, it wasn’t her coffee table anymore, it was suddenly the big but low chest that she’d seen him use as a table in the server room. The padlock was something oddly cube-shaped. Alright, her table wasn’t actually big enough for the couch, but, urgh, he was giving her feelings of furniture inadequacy _again_ ).

“And where exactly is _my_ table?” She asked.

“In storage,” he said without looking up from _The Magician’s Nephew_. “This is a much better surface than that.”

She winced. She couldn’t even argue against him on that because he was _right_. Her table’s sad self would certainly wallow in a corner at that, lick its cheap mass-produced exterior and glare at the real antique piece with envy. The assistant was almost positive that said chest oozed as much smugness as its owner. She gave it one last suspicious look.

“Well, as long as you remember to return it in place when you’re away.” Darcy hedged.

“Yes, _yes_. Trivial, I assure you,” he waved it away.

With a sigh, she dropped herself on the couch and basically just laid down the whole length of it. Loki barely blinked at the sudden invasion of her calves on his lap. He placed his hand over her legs, absentmindedly stroking them while her own attention drifted to the StarkPad in her hands. Almost an hour passed this way before she realised what she’d been doing.

And how weird was it that she genuinely enjoyed the company of an ex-wannabe dictator of earth?

There was one moment of awkwardness after she brought back two bowls of orange sorbet and fruits with caramel syrup that she had made for dessert. Loki had finished his some time ago and was simply reading once more on his own side. Darcy thought about what to say to Loki if she was going to go to asleep.

_I wanna sleep now, please butt out?_ She gave an inward snort. _Real subtle, Darce_.

Maybe she should just go ahead and sleep? Leave him to wander around her apartment on his own? He definitely could see himself out and it was certainly less weird than trying to kick him out (she suspected that he was like her last pet snake and did not enjoy being told what to do). But for all his crashing on her place, he didn’t exactly _live_ in it, did he? Or should she consider him to actually live half in it and not bother? After all, he spent more time in her apartment than in his own, for all she knew—

She froze. _Well, you noticed that he had his_ furniture _here too, right?_

_Wait, does this mean I’m actually currently living with a guy? What the hell, Darce?!_

_What_ is _this_ thing _, anyway?_

A full-blown panic attack didn’t have the time to develop because Loki had leaned forward from his side and his tongue rasped across her cheek. Darcy blinked. It was not exactly a human reaction, but it was endearing nonetheless. His thumb was still on her lips, now half opened in surprise.

“You have ice cream there,” he said, by way of explanation.

She licked his finger, making the decision to suck it and saw how he held himself back as his jaw muscles tensed. She stopped overthinking it and covered his lips with hers—surprisingly soft and tasting of berries. Loki was getting very good at taking her clothes off manually.

If the meeting she had suggested to Pepper and Tony reached its conclusion, he might not be in Stark Towers for too long, anyway. Whatever arrangement they had wasn’t going to last. She might’ve been sadder if she didn’t take life one day at a time. Even now, she had to admit that the prospect was a shade bittersweet—she probably had to get used coming home to an empty apartment once more. No doubt it was going to _suck_.

Why exactly it was bittersweet was something she avoided contemplating about.

‘-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Internet cookies to those who figured out how the name for Darcy’s brother ties in with her own name. Also, I kinda enjoyed trying to find weird non-human things that I can stick to the cultures of the Asgardian or Magicians (considering how the Asgardians don't seem to have many obvious magic users, I say they're in the minority and have a subculture of their own, a bit like academics).  
> 
> 
>  
> 
> The Weird and Random Endnotes:
> 
> **_Otto von Bismarck_ :** A Prussian who became German chancellor as he unified several German states into a powerful empire. Well known for his ruthless pragmatism, realpolitik and über political skills, his contribution to maintain peace in Europe during his time in office despite all the challenges and difficulties of doing so is one of his major accomplishments that made him a respected statesman. Also known as the Iron Chancellor.
> 
> **_Ludwig von Rochau’s seminal work_ :** _Principles of Realpolitik_. Von Rochau is the guy that first coined the term realpolitik in 1853 (though he did it in an earlier work, not this one). The word doesn’t exactly have as much negative connotations in German than in English. It represented an outlook of pragmatism and realism—dealing with the world as it is than as one wishes it to be.


	15. XV. Experiments, Part 2 (Empiricism)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lab slice of life, sort of. And...stuff (see summary in previous chapter for more clues).

### XV. Experiments, Part 2 (Empiricism)

Before Darcy had spent an unexpectedly enjoyable weekend with Loki, there were still work to do on Saturday evening. To be more specific, _Jane_ couldn’t seem to stop picking up more work. Half the lab lights were on and the sun was low in the reddish sky. Darcy stood right next to her boss, her attention drawn to the clock on the wall rather than the petite astrophysicist next to her.

“Jane…”

“I just need to run this one last thing.”

“You said that half an hour ago and you _swore_ you wouldn’t work full time on Saturdays.” The assistant pointed out. The scientist was already standing up, but she was still too engrossed in her calculations.

“Unless there’s an emergency,” Jane replied quickly. Darcy stared at her with disbelief.

“Right. And are we currently trying to rush finishing the Rainbow Bridge, huh? Because the Avengers _really_ needed to go to Asgard like, yesterday, though _nothing_ is happening there?”

Jane bit her lip. Darcy was getting really good at knowing when to push and when to back off so she said nothing about this show of apparent guilt. She sent her glance across the room instead, to where Thor had gingerly sat down on the couch and was cautiously picking through the papers on the coffee table as if they were frightened rabid weasels. Considering that Loki was a magician and she had no idea how _his_ books were like, Darcy didn’t even think the Thor’s caution was unwarranted. The Asgardian did grow up with his brother, after all.

She changed tack as she turned to Jane again. “What do you want to eat, Boss-Lady?”

“Bwhat?”

Darcy ignored her wrong-footed boss. “Well, if you were going to stay here for a while instead of going out with the big guy, I thought I might as well order the food right now. You’re not going out yet, are you? I mean, if I _don’t_ order now, Thor’s not going to get any food in the next half hour and that’s just too mean to him. It’s the least I could do for him if he’s waiting for his girlfriend at work.”

“This isn’t going to take long…” Jane muttered, but her assistant could see that she wasn’t that convinced of her own words.

“Shorter than an hour?” Darcy asked. She didn’t wait for an answer as she oh-so-casually moved on. “Nah. _So_ , the pile of menus are over there. I was about to pick them up and hand them over, but if Thor had eaten at all those places, it might be kinda boring, y’know? I was wondering if you know any more eating places to recommend. Since this is Saturday night, I think we can cut loose a bit and order from some fancier places.”

Darcy walked around Jane’s table, occasionally glancing at Thor. He had picked up random papers and started reading them, only to put them down when he didn’t understand the dense text. He didn’t let this deter him as it would only signal the time for him to move on to the next one and tried reading _that_. He certainly had more perserverance than Darcy did with the more technical parts of Jane’s work.

“There’s really no need. We were planning on going out,” Jane answered. Darcy folded her arms.

“No, _you’re_ working on your data right now, and even until next hour.”

“This would _just_ take a few minutes—”

“Jane, what did I say about denial?” Darcy shook her head and changed the topic. Her tone was more conversational now. “Never mind, you’re the one who knows your work, not me. Anyways, I’ll just look up some restaurant reviews over there and I’ll get back to you once I’ve got a selection of them. You’d know his taste better than I do.”

Thor certainly knew his own taste better than his girlfriend that it would be even more accurate if she were to outright ask him, but finding out what Thor liked wasn’t actually the purpose of this whole exercise. She just needed to make sure the astrophysicist was completely aware of what she was consigning her boyfriend to if she kept working. Jane seemed to be typing and clicking at a more frenzied speed now. Darcy left for her desk and idly browsed the internet.

“Whoa, whaddya know; there _is_ actually a restaurant that serves wild boar in New York! Thor, you’ve roasted wild boars often enough, haven’t you?” Darcy asked out loud.

“Yes I have, Lady Darcy.”

“You should totally try that out and tell me how it compares to all the other boars you’ve eaten. I wanna know what a professional eater of boars thinks.”

Thor accepted her request with a grave intensity. “Of course. I will endeavour to give you my best assessment.”

“Thanks. Anyway, that’s only if we end up ordering this tonight. There’s tons of great eating places here and we mustn’t be too rushed. Maybe some other place is more interesting to try first.” The tension in Jane’s shoulders were visible even from this distance, but apart from a passing glance, Darcy kept her attention on Thor. “There’s this new Middle-Eastern place that I heard the SHIELD admins tried ordering out from a few days ago. They say it’s pretty good.”

Thor smiled. “And I defer to your judgement.”

“Oookay!” Jane’s voice hit a shrill note and the assistant had to hold back the urge to smirk. Her boss pushed her chair back and rushed to the coat rack. Thor somehow _still_ managed to beat her there—for a guy that big who was all muscle, he could move quieter than a cat. He had already held Jane’s coat open for her. His girlfriend smiled sheepishly at him. “I’m done, absolutely done, and _we’re_ eating out right now.”

“You’ve shut down the computer, right?”

Jane’s relieved expression froze on her face. Darcy shook her head with a rueful grin. “You know what? Don’t sweat it. I’ll get it for you.”

“ _Thank you_ , Darcy.” Jane let out a relieved sigh.

“No prob. You guys just enjoy your night out, okay?”

“You’re going back after this too, right?” Jane asked. Darcy rolled her eyes.

“Of course I would. Why would I even want to spend more time _working_ than necessary?” _That would be you, Jane_ , Darcy thought with a small smile, _just you_. Her friend seemed to be relieved at that thought and the couple said their goodbyes to her.

‘-

Darcy had to have the bad luck of checking her email for one last time. A new email from Pepper came in an hour ago with several attached files and a list of links. They were resources, Pepper stated, especially on the legal side and the assistant was reminded of the fact that she had actually volunteered her own ass for additional work outside of what she did for Jane.

Tory was going to laugh his ass off if he ever found out. _First rule of any army or bureaucracy, Kiddo. Never volunteer for anything_.

She groaned. She supposed she could push this for Monday, but there was no guarantee that the scientist wouldn’t have new work for her by then. She might even come to regret piling her work that way.

“Oh, what the hell. I’d just read this and see what I need to do. It couldn’t take more than an hour, could it?” She remembered now that she did have to finish the draft of her plan by this weekend.

Unlike Jane, it wasn’t as if she had anyone waiting for her, was it?

‘-

In the night sky behind Darcy some time later, endless curtains of lights unfolded.

Even behind the occasional clouds it was majestic. It began as a ribbon of red that glowed and morphed to other colours besides. Under the cosmic curtains of the heavens the city seemed inconsequential. Its buildings were but the random scattering of children’s toys, its constellations were but random spots compared to the painting that is the real thing. She was standing by the windows before she realised it. Now, even under the parts of the lab whose lights she hadn’t bothered turning on, she could read the scribbles she wrote on her palm clearly without any additional light source _but the sky_.

The aurora filled the night sky.

Her eyes widened. “Wow, pretty…”

Darcy gaped for three seconds before remembering that she was supposed to be Assistant to the Astrophysicist and official lab rat, lack of a hard science degree notwithstanding. She had set up Jane’s machines so often she could do it in her sleep—her hands and feet had moved and knew what to do before her conscious thought even reached the same conclusion. She knew that Jane complained a lot about the amount of pollution and interference that a city has, but she reckoned it was better to just try than not.

Some time after that (and an uncountable number of jiggering and adjusting), all the results that the machines spat out at her was pretty baseline—she knew this because she had checked it against printouts Jane made for this exact reason. She sighed. She should be happy but for some reason she was kinda disappointed. Darcy hurriedly quashed that feeling before she tempted fate to make her life more _interesting_.

“Just an ordinary aurora, eh?”

She texted Jane about it, because she knew if she didn’t Jane would be too excited that she might’ve dragged Thor all the way here _again_ after their date.

_False alarm, Boss-Lady. Aurora is definitely no Bifrost_.

‘-

Loki had been reading  a book on the couch when the night sky lit up with a false creeping dawn. He frowned, before sweeping his attention along the skyline. The polar lights were unexpectedly vivid for Midgard. _When was the last time the firmament was the colour of blood?_ He was certain any mortal would be able to read without hearth or lamp, just by sitting under the open night sky. It reminded him of an old campaign he’d gone on against the Fire Giants, when they took the paths behind the stars still bright in a world so young…

( _Of course it was a campaign waged with Thor and his friends, wasn’t it? When they were as carefree as the sprightly trees, in a Spring that does not end. Loki buried that thought so fast he almost forgot he had remembered it again_. _For in the oldest worlds, he knew well enough that Spring had long passed them_.)

As his attention drifted to the book once more, he was sitting on his travelling chest instead of the couch. His left hand absentmindedly fiddling with the padlock.

'-

Monday came along and Darcy rushed through her morning routine before she got pulled into bed again (and decided that maybe she didn’t want to get up at all. Loki could be very persuasive).

“Sorry!” She yelled back from the bathroom door as it screeched shut. “Jane’s got a lot of stuff to work through, so the lab’s going to be really busy these few weeks.”

“I doubt she would be working on anything genuinely new or insightful,” Loki said.

Darcy had to hold back from scoffing and poked her head back out. The door protested at her vigorous treatment. “By what, Asgardian standards? I don’t see any of you guys sharing what you know with us, do you? So if we have to reinvent the rainbow bridge to be able to go anywhere on our own, so be it.”

She ducked into the bathroom and ignored the way the door creaked yet again. If she lingered any longer outside and she’d be tempted to stay put. The red bite mark over his left upper arm tempted her to create an identical mark on the other side. (Yet if she did, she would probably not end up doing anything productive for the whole day).

When she came out, she set up her notebook on top of his chest-slash-coffee-table so he could watch Netflix with it and the padlock clinked as she bumped it. She’d already placed him on the Game of Thrones page.

“There!” She announced, ignoring a sceptical looking Loki. “You’re not going to get bored.”

“I doubt that.”

She rolled her eyes and ignored his complaint. She knew well enough how he got difficult on purpose when he was in a bad mood and she wasn’t going to feed his sulk if she could help it.

“You asked about what I meant when I said Game of Thrones a few days back, so here it is. It’s a TV show in a fake-medieval setting. Basically, the nobles of the land are gunning for the Iron Throne by all means necessary. And when I say by all means, it’s really _by all means_. Like, dead people, torture, hostage, convenient marriage alliances, _forced_ marriage alliances—basically, the whole nine yards.”

His eyebrows rose. “Ah.”

“Yep. Oh, just a disclaimer from a poli-sci major because I’m sure you’d notice it as easily as I do—most of the characters are going to be making a whole lot of stupid moves, strategically speaking, and that was even _after_ you take into account of the limits of their knowledge and the whole shebang about how everyone always operates on incomplete information. Seriously, it’s hard to believe that some of them could ever survive being a politician for more than a _year_.”

Darcy huffed. “I yelled at them plenty of times and they didn’t listen to me.”

Loki was unsure about how to treat the revelation.

“You speak to your…recorded stories and expect them to _listen_?”

She shrugged. “Why not?”

He was _still_ looking at her strangely. It was like the time when she was lining her colourful rubber ducks on the side of her bathtub before she told him he could use them as long as he returned them to their place.

( _‘Why would I want to use them?’ ‘To float in your bath water, of course, what else? Look at all the colours! The more’s the merrier’ He did not stop sending surreptitious glances in her direction when he thought she wasn’t looking for some time after that. She didn’t mind—he didn’t insult the ducks the slightest bit or question why a grown-up woman even had them._ )

“Oh come _on_. Don’t tell me you don’t have that urge when you read novels! I’m fine with characters bumbling through and screwing up, but to completely lose all common sense is pushing it. Never mind. The dramatic and narrative tension is _really_ good though, keeps you at the edge of the seat. Then there’s all mention the lush setting and stuff. All the nasty characters would also get their comeuppance sooner rather than later.”

“You can cheer with their every death!” There was a wide smile on her face.

He blinked. “I was unaware that you are rather bloodthirsty.”

It was hard to determine whether that was a criticism or praise, only that she had caught his attention, judging from the way his eyes widened and fixated on her. Coming from Loki, it might as well be both, only from different angles. She decided not to think about it—he was just going to give her _another_ headache.

Darcy shrugged. “Hey, it’s just a show. Also, I’m sure you’d do the same once you see what people are up to in Westeros. Seriously, just watch it. It’s great fun. Though on the down side it’s so fatalistic that I’m no longer attached to any of the characters at this point—they’d just die off, anyway. If you want something that would induce less headdesk politics-wise, I’d go with the British _House of Cards_ …alright, don’t mind me. I’m babbling.”

“Soooo, have fun and I’m off to the lab!”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” He asked.

Darcy paused. Oh, _yeah_ , this sweat shirt didn’t have a high enough neckline and she’d need a scarf, huh? She was sure there’d got to be at least one here somewhere that doesn’t clash with her current outfit—

Loki was standing in front of her, draping her azure scarf around her neck and patted her backside. “There, off you go.”

Wait, no, that was more of a grope than a pat, but she didn’t even have the time to pay him back because she _really_ had to run. She just swore to come up with something later. In her rush, she had missed the addition of the serpent brooch pinned to one end of the scarf.

‘-

When Darcy arrived at the lab, Jane somehow chose that morning to be weirdly perceptive. “Are you experimenting with your style a bit?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I think I’ve seen you with turtlenecks a lot more often these last few days, or scarves.”

Darcy grinned instead, as wide and with as many teeth as the Cheshire Cat’s. “Janey, Janey, _Janey_. You don’t know how happy I am that you started this conversation instead of me. You know that anytime you want to know how my sex life goes, you can just ask me outright, right? No need to try to soften me up first because I won’t be offended, like, _at all_? But I _do_ expect a fair trade for that because I want to know how the Thunder God’s personal hammer stacks up.”

Jane gaped. “How did asking about clothes end up being about _sex?!_ ”

The brunette shrugged looking more casual than she felt. “Why do you think I wear these? Because I know you’d feel uncomfortable staring at hickeys. If you’re asking, I would _gladly_ go to lengthy details about them and the guy I’m currently banging and maybe not wear turtlenecks tomorrow. Now, am I _finally_ going to hear about Thor?”

“Nope! Pretend I never asked that! Nice scarf, by the way!” Jane answered in a rush before wandering away to escape her scrutiny. Darcy regretted it a little. It would’ve been nice if she could tell the astrophysicist about Loki right then—not great odds, but nice all the same. If she brought it up after this, it would’ve just been crass.

“Anyway, are you _sure_ that the aurora you saw on Saturday was _not_ the signs of an Einstein-Rosen Bridge?” Jane asked, raising her voice a little from her table. It was clear that her friend was still huffy at being held back from returning to her lab immediately then and was still worrying over the issue like a dog with a bone.

Her assistant groaned. “For the tenth time, Jane, _no, it isn’t_ and just read the damned printouts if you don’t believe me. It’s _exactly_ like I said!”

‘-

Darcy received an email from Pepper sometime around lunch.

_I noticed that you somehow ended up being responsible for feeding Loki. How did that happen? Good job on that, by the way._

Trust her to realise what Darcy’s ‘diplomatic expense’ accounts actually were.

_The same way it happened in Thor’s case, I guess—clueless Asgardian crashing in the lab. Someone’s got to introduce him to earth cuisine that he can’t start dissing. Oh, and thanks for the company card, by the way. Great policy! I couldn’t pull it off otherwise_.

The reply came sometime in the afternoon when Darcy was trying to parse what the hell the results of some of the statistical tests mean, and whether that meant they needed to collect more data or anything. Jane was a one-woman tornado, leaving printed published papers where she tracked and dropping doodles and equations sketches all over the place. There wasn’t an empty spot on the whiteboard at this point. A new email had just reached her inbox.

_You’re welcome. Don’t hesitate to ask for any help if you need it. :)_

She didn’t care if she looked idiotic dancing in front of her computer, but getting an emoticon from Pepper Potts (!!!) was worth it. She saved the emails.

‘-

She went back even later than she’d planned when she saw that she had a new email.

_From: qspade@mailbox.org_

_Finally! I’ve been wondering where you are lately. Were you travelling to the centre of the earth that you can’t even access the_ internet _, Slugger? Don’t ever disappear without news again!_

Darcy couldn’t help grinning like an idiot at that. They were alright and she couldn’t be happier. Sarah had replied to her email. She wondered how her friend managed to reply pretty quickly _and_ wrote a long email at the same time, but Darcy didn’t give it much thought.

( _Yeah, I understand what you mean. I currently travel a lot too, so my time zone is probably as wonky as yours. Email is perfect, and yes, I’m using Tor browser and that email account you made me, no need to remind me about the whole surveillance dragnet, Mother_.)

Well, neither of them even used anything other than their nicknames so far, so Darcy supposed that Sarah took her advice on securing personal data to heart.

Last she heard, Sarah took a job in the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees – UNHCR because she wanted to travel and ‘get a bit more mileage and practise both the poli-sci bit and the psychology bit’. Yet other rumours say that she didn’t renew her contract after the minimum required and went…travelling. On her own, or something—the details were a bit unclear. She did remember seeing the occasional travel pictures cropping up on Sarah’s Facebook to be of hauntingly exotic places.

Emphasis on the _haunting_.

(She would’ve envied her friend if she didn’t know just how much systematic horror even mundane humans are capable of—and how Sarah was probably getting a front row seats to all of that, working where she did. There were still her emails from a year ago, where she told Darcy about the experiences of the people and children she’d met in refugee camps. No, Darcy didn’t envy her at all).

Darcy hadn’t gone through the details of the letter, but it was nice to know that the broad strokes of her opinions were close enough to what Darcy had thought about the whole Asgard brothers mess. So, she was on the right track, _probably_. Good to know. The end bits of the letter were a bit more personal.

( _You’re not telling me all the details yet, are you? And I’m not talking about the top security stuff, Darce, I_ know _. I’ve gotten some NDAs in my time too. With enough details of what you’re saying, I can figure out where you are right now on my own; there is only one group of companies that has Pepper Potts onboard. Ha! Not to mention that I’m aware of the internship you took on your final year and the attack that happened in that city—I’m not gullible enough to believe they’re unrelated. I_ do _know who you interned with, Slugger, as my Google-fu is as strong as yours._

_My answer is_ yes _; I think I’ll take you up on that offer drop in on you one of these days, maybe if my travels brought me to New York._

_~ Q_ ♠)

Darcy cursed. She’d forgotten that beneath the impression of the beautiful, popular girl that was Sarah was a mind like a steel trap. She _did_ finish that double major with flying colours, after all.

( _Anyway, what I’m talking about getting more details on tall, dark and broody that you claim to be friends with. The one with a sharp tongue on him and can’t seem to leave you alone? You_ do _know that I know your usual types, right?_ Darcy was going to pretend she didn’t read that and not even touch that topic when she wrote the next reply. Wait, she could always _retaliate_. Maybe she should ask about that guy Sarah always managed to not talk about and her other friends always forgot to ask, for some weird reason.)

Darcy stumbled back to her apartment at some really late hours and dropped off to sleep. She noticed that her bed was neatly made again, plushies included, and her living room was certainly better-ordered than she herself would’ve left it. There was still that old chest in the middle instead of a coffee table, but she wouldn’t complain at this point when the rest of the place was so neat it was like having her own room service. Besides, it wasn’t as if she had that much energy left to complain. She’d rather just sleep.

‘-

On Tuesday morning, she dashed through the living room without paying particular attention to Loki, who was monopolising the couch.

“When I mentioned that you were a serf, I did that in jest. I didn’t expect that to be the truth,” he said.

“Well, this is what usually happens when Jane’s rushing for the next discovery. I don’t always work like this, but the occasional week of insane work? Yeah, pretty standard.” She said.

Her netbook was already open on top of the low oak chest with Netflix open and he had earphones on. It was even plugged in. She was pretty sure there was a password for her main user id, but honestly, did she even expect that it was going to last against _Loki_? He probably took it more as a challenge than deterrence (and seriously, she didn’t care about whatever it was he could find there. If she did, she wouldn’t even let him know she owned it).

“By the way, how’s _Game of Thrones?_ ”

He scoffed but he didn’t take his eyes off the screen. “The idiots just keep bumbling and _dying_. And—no, no, no, _no_ , don’t do _that_ ; that’s _not_ going to be in the best interest of your House, you _vitskertr bǫllr!_ No one is going to take an insult that big lying down and your faction can’t afford more enemies now!”

Darcy laughed as she heard a more curse words aimed at whichever character happened to be on the spotlight right then. For all his apparent complaints, he hadn’t stop watching—she was pretty sure the episode he was watching was _way_ beyond the first few seasons. _Who’s yelling at the screen now, huh?_ She did her best to memorise his insults (she always loved collecting curse words in foreign languages) as she picked up her bag, dropped her StarkPad into it and quickly strode out of her apartment.

‘-

On second thoughts, maybe Darcy should actually wonder about what Loki was thinking when she left.

Loki was right there, in the lab, pouring coffee for himself in what he probably considered was his casual Asgardian outfit and what Darcy thought was one that said ‘just got back from a ride around the royal grounds’. It was hard to miss him when Jane had shrieked in surprise. In his left hand were pages and pages of some printouts or another. Darcy couldn’t keep up with all the paper that Jane generated at this point.

“Oh, it’s you. What’s up?” Darcy asked.

“What’s _up?_ ” Jane snapped her head to Darcy. “Isn’t he supposed to be a _prisoner_?”

“He’s wearing some sort of magic handcuffs on his arms. Natasha also said that Dr. Strange had put up some weird juju in the whole building as a safeguard for the handcuffs too and Tony confirmed that. Also _,_ there’s a magic cell you can instantly pull him into in the basement.” Darcy said. For some reason, she had only counted them now and was reminded of one of the details she’d heard in Sarah’s stories. “And remember that conversation about wards that we have? Yeah.”

_He has three safeguards. Loki is thrice bound—does it actually made a difference?_

“Why are you poking through Jane’s sciencey notes?” She asked instead, too uncertain about her odd thoughts.

Jane pinched the bridge of her nose. “ _Sciencey_ is not a word—”

“I’m trying to familiarise myself with Midgard’s terminology,” Loki said casually, as if he dropped in on random labs every day and get in their face. “Just to see how crude your efforts are so far.”

Darcy rolled her eyes. “Can we just pretend that we’ve all heard a whole paragraph of rant about how earth’s knowledge of Bifrost is way behind Narnia and that we still suck? And I’ve gone ‘whatever, chauvinistic space viking peeps, plucky underdog earth rules!’? Because it’s going to take some time, we’ve still got a lot of stuff to do and I want to cut through the crap. What brings you here, Magic Man?”

Loki regarded her coolly while Jane stared at her as if she was nuts.

“ _Darcy_ ,” Jane hissed in warning. Darcy knew what she was trying to warn her, probably something about not agitating one of the few guys who could legitimately say they’ve gone on a rampage on earth. Honestly, it was a good advice, if only Darcy hadn’t ignored the little panicky voice inside her that said much the same ages ago.

“It is as I’ve said; the crude works your people has managed to find out,” Loki said, lifting the papers. With a flick of his wrist, he sent them all piled on one table. He turned to Jane.

“Apparently you study stars based on their light and songs. Unfortunately, it is only based on what you can see and hear from Midgard. I suppose it is a reasonable compromise for your species’ handicap. You are immobilised, bound to make your observations only on your own small planet as travelling across great space to observe from different points is beyond you.”

Jane’s eyes widened and any residual fear took a backseat to her scientific curiosity. Darcy would’ve been really worried for the scientist’s self-preservation if she hadn’t begun to trust Loki in his own way. At least until her thought processes screeched to a crashing halt with one realisation:

_Wait, does that mean that_ both _of our survival instincts are off??_

“You actually understand that?” Jane asked, pointing to the papers.

“Do _you_ actually understand all that?” Darcy asked Jane in disbelief. The astrophysicist was still intent on Loki’s explanation.

He shrugged.

“You’ve reached the point where you are listening and finding the measure and keys to the music of the celestial spheres—” Darcy could hear Jane gasp at that. “You are trying to transcribe them once you find out. It is not in any notation that I recognise, but it is not completely beyond the scope of my studies.”

Darcy wasn’t quite sure if they were talking science or _philosophy_ (or philosophy of science). Jane didn’t seem to have that problem.

“What do you know of the assumptions I used, then?” The petite scientist wondered out loud.

“Not quite everything yet, but it would not take too long.”

He raised his left hand and twisted his wrist in a way that a glowing green line appeared in mid-air and his StarkPad dropped into his hands.

“After all, your species’ _Wikipedia_ has always been a question away for any confusing terminology.”

Jane gaped. “That’s—you could actually work a _computer?!_ ”

Loki rolled his eyes as he stared at Darcy. “Why is my ability to use your reckoning engines so surprising? You were taken aback on the same issue when I was trying to recover books.”

_Because Thor didn’t seem to be familiar to it_ didn’t seem to be the most politic thing to say, though.

“Because we’ve only seen warriors from your land before.” Darcy figured out something else to say. “Jane, remember Clarke’s Law? It’s _exactly_ that. He’s a magician. On their alien planet, it’s people who study magic who could actually operate the tech stuff—he said all the science and magic amounts to the same thing, though.”

Jane narrowed her eyes slightly at her assistant. “How do you even know these things?”

“ _We_ actually hang out and talk,” Darcy said, returning Jane’s expression of surprise and worry with a flat stare. “Who did you think got _that_ StarkPad for him and first loaded Wikipedia on the browser there?”

The brunette could see a hundred questions building up in Jane’s eyes, along with were probably also some major disagreements, but she didn’t give her friend a chance to voice them.

Darcy approached Loki. “So, you’re suddenly interested in our work on stars?”

“The Norns only know when you’d get anywhere without help. It’s pathetic, really.” He said.

“And you decided to help us out of the _goodness_ of your own _heart_?” She asked, sarcastic.

Loki was talking to Jane again. “If it is noise that you are currently trying to separate from actual light and song when it comes to portals, perhaps a demonstration of one would be worth a hundred of fortuitous observations you only manage due to an unexpected happenstances of portals on Midgard.”

Jane took a step closer. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that you can turn on whatever rudimentary measuring machines you have and see what it hears or see when _I_ open a small _portal_ to a nowhere space. There will be no noise but that of your own planet since the other side is not bound to any real location. Removing the chords of Midgard would’ve been trivial. Anything left after that would merely be from the portal.”

He threw his StarkPad in the air with the ease of a pro tennis player at Wimbledon, and it was swallowed by a widening green line that suddenly appeared there. His expression was smug.

“Well?”

Jane didn’t need to be offered twice. Darcy was soon dragged into preparing the hardware once more (not for the umpteenth time Darcy wondered if Jane would one day start replacing some of the stuff with hardware they could just order from a catalogue and reduce the manual finagling needed). She didn’t let it stop her from sending the occasional suspicious look in Loki’s direction. It didn’t help, of course. He only grinned and winked at her. She was damn sure he was up to something.

‘-

There were some small arguments about methodology between Loki and Jane, not that Darcy was actually following it in detail. What she did know was that he ended up opening successively larger portals (and retrieving successively larger objects) from his pocket dimension and they recorded all energy/emission/magic bullshit/space music _whatever_ that they could from those events. He began by taking out that small juggling ball she was beginning to be real familiar with (it didn’t seem to be something modern and she wondered—was it actually a toy he kept from his childhood?) Then, there was the StarkPad. Other objects followed suit not long after that but there were no furniture in sight. _Probably all already out in his apartment_.

The last thing he took out was a large lush carpet. It was mostly green and doing its best impression of a grassy field, but the occasional floral details and intensity of colour was such that Darcy couldn’t help leaving the machine she was next to. She crouched near the carpet to see the flowers up close and occasionally poking. It was so thick and soft that Darcy was sure she could fall asleep on it.

Loki dropped himself on the carpet over the flower she was staring at. He might have gone for the lazy look, but she half-suspected he had used up not a little amount of his magic. His skin was paler than she was used to seeing and it didn’t leave her with a good feeling.

“Did your machines catch all that?” He asked.

“I think so.” Darcy turned around. “Jane, did we get all that?”

“Yep. The data’s pretty clean. This is going to help a lot.” Jane said, turning between the homemade hardware with the airy joy of a butterfly flitting between flowers. She sounded much too giddy for someone who’d only gotten more numbers and measurements. Loki stood up and Darcy saw the portal open one last time, much larger than it had been before and every single thing that Loki had pulled out were suddenly sucked in again. It moved at a slower pace than before, plodding instead of quick.

If she wasn’t quite sure whether Loki was paler or not, she certainly didn’t imagine the staticky feeling washing past her skin. Nor did she imagine smirk that was on his face right now.

Wait, why was she suddenly wearing an Asgardian dress? She wasn’t complaining about Loki’s style (he had good taste), but he could’ve made it blue or purple instead of green. Not that she could even complain about the shade of green because it suited her well, damn him.

“You have asked a favour from me, Jane Foster, Stargazer of Midgard. I will now collect your payment,” his cadence and tone was formal. With the way he stood, he seemed less of a prisoner and more of an alien prince of eldritch power. Jane _definitely_ paled, wondering what she’d just done. Darcy was only facepalming from beside Loki. She should’ve figured out sooner that he was going to pull something like this.

“ _What?_ ” Jane stammered.

“No harm inflicted and nothing not freely given,” Loki said casually. He offered an open hand to Darcy. “The price of my help to you is one _Darcy Lewis_.”

“No! You can’t have Darcy!”

As happy as she was for Jane’s concern, she didn’t know if telling her that this was Loki’s idea of a joke would make a difference. She had nothing she could say that Jane wouldn’t misunderstand.

“You should have thought of that before accepting my aid—but your greed for knowledge is stronger than even friendship, _isn’t it?_ ” Loki asked. His voice was smooth, enchanting and as friendly as Mephistopheles had been to Faust. The brunette held back an inward sigh. _He’s definitely getting a kick out of this_. Darcy took his hand just to get this over with.

“Don’t say that. She’s just dedicated to her work, Loki,” Darcy defended.

“Was there anything I’ve said that is mistaken, Jane Foster?” Loki challenged the scientist. “Correct me if I’m wrong.”

Jane slumped down on her chair, still partly in shock and with some degree of guilt. Darcy wanted to tell her to ignore him, but she wasn’t sure if that was going to be effective at all.

“I’ll be back soon, Jane. Don’t forget to eat!”

“Darcy!”

“Don’t worry about me, really!”

Loki teleported them away. They went back to Darcy’s apartment, to be precise, right into her bedroom with a bed that’s completely covered with books and papers at this point. She knew right away why he’d quasi-kidnapped her, and sighed.

“You know, that was a rather mean trick to play on Jane,” Darcy commented.

Loki had pushed one of her books into her hands, his expression completely boyish and innocent. He had no right to look that cute when he was being an ass, but apparently reality disagreed with her. Frankly, she was going to have words with reality and shove her opinion in the bastard where the sun doesn’t shine.

“I have no idea what you are talking about, Miss Lewis.”

Darcy rolled her eyes. “Fine. This dress is pretty and all, but could I at least get it in purple?”

He sighed, but made a languid flick of his fingers all the same and her skin tingled with magic. The fabric transformed into rich patrician purple, but new detailed embroidery of trailing vines in green emerged as trims _everywhere_. Not to mention the viridian underbust. She chose her victories and let it slide.

“Great! Now, what weird earth stuff you were going to ask about?”

Darcy pushed some books back to sit on the bed. A quick hand wave from Loki and more space opened up for her as papers and books shuffled aside and he sat down. She pushed her azure scarf she found on her bed to his side and sat on her side.

“Those history books about the last great wars that you’ve lent me,” Loki began.

 “What about them?”

There were lines forming on his brow as he scanned through his notes. “I understand fighting enemies on the battlefield for victory with costs in lives, but civilians? Where do you stop when you begin killing the general populace too? What would be left to rule over after that but ashes? A destroyed _land_? I cannot imagine anyone intentionally aiming for scorched earth result—what do you get from it? To indulge in damage and destruction for its own sake is _insane_.”

Darcy sighed. “That’s what I call the dark side of nationalism. Wait, do you even _have_ nationalism?”

She stared at him but Loki waved it away. “I suspect it is not precisely the same term that we use, nor does it have the exact same meaning, but it will be similar enough not to matter for now. Continue.”

“Well, yes, _nationalism_ ; people identifying that they belong in this vague blob of an idea called a _nation_ , instead of just stopping at the kingdom and the ruling family stuck to it. It’s not just about geography anymore; it’s also about the people. But once you manage to define what ‘us’ is, there is enough space on the other side of the coin for people to decide what is ‘not us’. People who can become a convenient enemy.”

_Pointing fingers is easy_ , she thought. _Too damn easy_.

“It’s an uphill battle to pick actual issues and threats faced by a nation state—they’re usually pretty abstract. Stuff like the economy, corruption and whatnot. It’s much easier for the leaders to declare as enemies people who are different from the ‘us’ group, usually one that’s powerless enough to be unable to defend themselves. They make convenient targets—and thus the process of ‘othering’ starts.”

_With labels like ‘slut’, ‘whore’, ‘homo’, ‘lesbo’, ‘gyp’, ‘tramp’, etc, include any ethnic, religious, or differing lifestyle group that you prefer to aim your hate-on at. The list goes on_ , Darcy mused. There was a flicker of memories passing by about words she’d heard aimed at her, unusually sharp, but she could turn it away with the ease of practise. All that was visible of her thoughts was her sigh.

“Combine that with state power and you get…ethnic cleansing and its nasty siblings. Maybe genocide.”

She quieted for a moment while gathering her thoughts.

“It’s not the first time human nation-states managed to do that, of course, but modern technology made it all possible on, like, a completely different _scale_. Back in the middle ages, you’d get, what, thousands of people dead in invasions and conquest? Now, you could hit hundreds of thousands and more.” It was hard to keep the sour taste from her mouth as she finished, but it needed to be said.

Darcy could see that Loki understood the violence and he could see how the groupthink could form, but the sheer scale of the numbers was still unbelievable to him. The tipping point in the mob and public opinion was clearly something he didn’t understand either.

“So, if we were to use the Weimar _republic_ as an example…” He said the word ‘republic’ as if it was a particularly unsavoury neighbourhood he would like to remove at the next city planning session. ”The economy is bad, hence the citizens’ decision to ship off the neighbours they don’t like to be killed, to better their survival? Some disliked ethnic category? Why don’t they roll a dice to determine who is unlucky enough to get culled by the state? It would’ve been _random_ and _fair_.”

Darcy laughed at how unreal the conversation was that _Loki_ out of all people wanted to see more _fairness_ in state-sanctioned violence.

“Equal opportunity deaths, you mean?” She asked with a wry turn of her lips. He shrugged

“It would still be crazy, but it would’ve made more sense.”

Loki’s nonplussed gaze told her just how strange to him it all was, how ridiculous their conversation. He muttered something else under his breath that she almost didn’t catch as he shifted some of his papers. “Of course, I might be ascribing _more_ sense than is warranted, given the sheer capacity for violence from _nonsense_ …”

Tiredness crept in at the edges as she collected herself to answer.

“Well, it’s not actually that nonsensical, but you did actually touch a portion of it. The first thing you need to keep in mind is that, most people _aren’t_ complete monsters, but there are weaknesses to how people think. We’re not completely rational all of the time. If you know how to press people’s buttons, it would make them agree with your easier.”

Darcy supposed she _could_ go and talk about _framing_ , of how different issues when presented from different angles would gain different reactions from the same people. Yet she couldn’t go ahead and actually taught Loki the psychology of perception and public relations out of nowhere. That was like handling the controls to a nuclear warhead to a trigger-happy kid.

She just had to ask something first.

“What would you do if you were there?”

He looked up from his notes and that azure scarf of hers that was draped over his lap. “Excuse me?”

“If you were, I don’t know, thrown through a tear in space and time and landed in Germany in the middle of the Third Reich? And you were able to put yourself in a position of power inside the government? What would you do? Would you stop it?”

He frowned. “Why would I want to do that?”

“ _What?!_ ”

Her blood ran cold and Darcy wondered whether she’d made a mistake at all. Loki met her gaze and seemed slightly baffled at her stricken expression than sympathetic—he clarified his answer instead.

“Why would I want to put myself within the government? I’d rather clean the government and then put myself on top of it all. In all possibility, the solution is making some dead bodies from all the people who won’t be dissuaded from their idea. It certainly would be far, _far_ less than the final count had been.”

Loki stated his intent calmly, as if his version of spring cleaning wasn’t a bloody as he’d stated it would be. Darcy only sighed and dropped herself on the bed and convinced herself not to rant on about it because his natural tendency was _still_ towards autocracy. It was a good thing that he wasn’t for the massacre of masses of civilians, right?

If she didn’t stop herself at this point, she would be laughing hysterically.

_Right, let’s get back to the discussion on having an actual judicial system instead of some übermensch king is more robust for a nation state_.

They talked about other topics that are just as _absolutely wonderful_ (sarcasm completely intended), mostly on various craptastic regimes of the twentieth century and the piles of dead people they leave behind, usually in mass graves or worse, just mass pile of…something. She also mentioned about how there’s this thing us _mere_ _mortal_ _humans_ invented called the _political stability index_ to measure how fucked up a country was in a way that lends to better comparability across regions and time.

Through all this, he listened to her without interrupting or even one doubting look. He drank all her words with a seriousness she’d rarely see most people give her. It was…it was intoxicating, actually. She found that she wanted to answer all his questions, explain _everything_ he ever wanted to know. Heck, she wouldn’t even mind being forced to read as much as she had to back in college again to be able to tell him more—to be the best political advisor he could have.

At least Loki wasn’t even commenting why she was speaking while lying down on the bed (the topic was kinda depressing even for her). The oddest thing for her was how Loki ended up lying down next to her after a while and they kept talking like that.

It was…weird. Not a bad-weird, just new-weird. He didn’t even say anything when she slipped her hand into his. It was comfortably larger than hers.

Darcy fired up several quick texts to Tony and Pepper in case Jane tried to raise an alarm while continuing their conversation. She was used to multi-tasking, what with all the running-while-packing and running-while-measuring she did with Jane, and she sent her last message to the astrophysicist herself. Of course she didn’t mention on any of them that Loki had taken her to her own apartment.

That was just going to make them worry for no good reason and take all the wrong conclusions.

Or worse, take all the right conclusions.

‘-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was anyone really surprised about Loki's approach to clean house in a government? (Kill 'em).
> 
> Darcy’s experience with Game of Thrones is actually mine. I desperately want to enjoy it because my siblings and a lot of my friends seems to be into the show, but alas it was not to be. My suspension of disbelief fails to hold up in viewing as my I notice stuff. There are oodles of niggling little details that seem to be insignificant individually unravels the world apart when they reach critical mass. Now, I just enjoy it vicariously through other people’s second-hand stories instead of watching it directly—I pick up less details that way. Much more fun and less frustrating.
> 
>   
> 
> 
> The Completely Random Glossary:
> 
> **_Music of the Celestial Spheres_ :** _Musica Universalis_ , a concept of natural philosophy from back to the antiquity that the movements of the celestial bodies is actually some sort of music—this isn’t as far-fetched as it sounds because orbital movements and music does share a similarity; mathematical patterns. The idea can be traced as far back as Pythagoras and is followed by many after him, Kepler included. There are too many variations on the concept made by different scholars for me to go into too much detail.
> 
> **_Übermensch_ :** The concept of ‘overman’, ‘superhuman’, ‘beyond-human’, or ‘superman’ in Nietzschian philosophy. A person whose superior ideals, conviction and ability in improving humanity as a whole creates a strength and ability to influence, affect and direct other people—and that it is completely within their rights to do so (and they should do so). For the greater good and all that. I can't imagine it would fit easily with democracy. Of course, this is a grossly simplified definition.
> 
> **_Vitskertr bǫllr_ :** Shortwit dick. Old Norse.


	16. XVI. Things Fall Apart (Truth Escapes)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The lab. Exactly what it says on the tin._
> 
> _*With apologies to Chinua Achebe._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nerdy banter...but I bet you're not surprised by that, are you? There is an NSFW scene, but it's for a good cause, I swear! There's drama and character development and stuff. Check the conversation right after that if you don't believe me.

### XVI. Things Fall Apart* (Truth Escapes)

What Darcy had underestimated was Jane’s persistence and worrywart tendencies. Sure, Tony certainly forwarded the message he received to the scientist, about how Darcy was alright and Jane only had the misfortune to have unconsciously annoyed Loki with their recent work schedule. The astrophysicist refused to accept the news until she could actually see Darcy with her own eyes, and even contacted _Thor_ about it before Tony could stop her.

Darcy was throwing arguments back and forth about the nature of fascism with Loki when her phone beeped and she saw Tony’s text.

_Your boss is dead certain we have a hostage situation at hand and called the Hammer. Better get here before it gets worse, Lewis_.

She had one thought about it as her palm met her forehead in a slap: _Aww crap_. She dragged her limbs up. One would think she had to move through molasses with the speed she moved. Loki arched an eyebrow. Darcy pressed her lips together for some time before she spoke up.

“Tony can’t defuse Jane so I’ve got to go.”

“Why? If she wants to run her mind into circles after your assurances, it’s her choice.”

 She huffed. “She’s just being a good friend, okay? Look, since _you_ decided to play games with her, it’s your fault that I have to run damage control now. I would have done the same in her position, to be honest—that is, I’ll worry about a friend that got shanghaied by some sinister force.”

“You would doubt my intentions if Lady Jane had gone with me?” He mocked.

She shrugged. “Not really, but If you got dragged into shenanigans of people I don’t know from outer space? Yeah, I’d worry about you.”

Whatever answer he had expected, it wasn’t that. His expression was more critical than it had been and he stared her down with bafflement. She cocked her head to one side and stared back, daring him to comment.

“Sometimes I wonder how you’ve managed to survive growing up with that head of yours,” he finally stated. She rolled her eyes and stood up to leave.

“I’m _really_ feeling the appreciation here.” Darcy replied sarcastically. “ _Thank you_ , Darcy, for being _such_ a concerned friend.”

Loki ignored her effort to ad-lib his lines. “I suppose there’s still enough time for your luck to run out and for your recklessness to finally kill you. You’ve barely existed for that long in the universe, after all.”

“Dude, keep dissing my lifespan like that and all your ice creams would be _wasabi_ ice cream.”

She could almost feel the odd look he was sending over her shoulder. “What’s wasabi?”

Darcy grinned. Her habit of ordering sushi sans wasabi was good for something, after all.

“Something I would happily introduce you to.”

‘-

For all of Loki’s disparaging comments on Jane’s intelligence for ‘panicking so easily’ according to him, he had walked with Darcy out of her apartment. Some time when they were waiting for the elevator he’d observed her quite intently for a minute or two before her dress changed into a purple-grey business suit with killer shoes—shoes she was positive were the ones she had been staring unhealthily at on Pinterest. The heels were cruel and unusual punishment, though. _He better not to have lost the sneakers_. The same shimmer of green magic took away his Asgardian garments and gave him a three piece charcoal suit with an emerald silk waistcoat.

It fitted him so well he might as well have been poured into it, from the well defined set of his shoulders to his backside, and her mouth went dry. Darcy was pretty sure he _still_ didn’t look like a business professional at this rate and more like a member of some European royal family. It might’ve been the cravat he was wearing instead of a tie, or that chain she was almost sure supposed to lead to a pocket watch. Even then he glanced down at his outfit with a slight displeasure.

“Not perfect, but I suppose it would do.”

She gaped. _What the heck was_ perfect _supposed to look like?_ She almost yelled out but didn’t.

“Wait, you look too stiff,” Darcy said, walking up to him. To her surprise, he actually let her stand _way_ close and casually ran her hands once through his hair. She didn’t miss the way he blinked slowly when her fingers touched the back of his neck by accident.

“There.” She tried to ignore the butterflies in her stomach that came from standing a hair’s breadth away from the perfect distance to drape herself over him. Not that she did so. He was nonplussed.

“ _Messy_ is better?”

“I was aiming for ‘less control freak’, actually.” She took a casual step back, as if she had always planned to do that instead of needing the distance before she decided to jump him on the spot. Fortunately, she was saved by the ‘ding’ of the arriving elevator.

“So, there’s our ride.”

He smirked. “No. Too slow.”

“Too _slow?_ ”

He held her elbow and pulled her into a dizzying swirl of colours and through gravitationally challenged spaces. _Of course he prefers to teleport_ , she groused. She would’ve probably landed on her knees if he didn’t hold her waist.

(Well, hips, actually. Darcy would be the first to come out and admit that his hand was definitely holding the upper curve of her ass. Not that she thought it was a bad thing).

Staring at the two arrivals in varying degrees of surprise, disbelief and _weapons hot_ , was Jane…and maybe half of the Avengers. Thor had Mjölnir ready at hand, but froze mid-swing when they landed in the middle of the lab. The Black Widow was aiming a gun uncomfortably close to Darcy’s chest. _Yyeeah, that’s the downside of having big boobs—a bigger target for people to hit._

Fortunately, the assassin lowered it quickly before everything got even more hairy.

“Sheesh, I _told_ you she was fine, First Contact—in their goddamned Sunday best, even,” Tony complained. He sounded more offended that Loki was dressed sharper than he was than Darcy arriving with him. “Now would you _calm down_?”

Jane had bounded towards her friend and assistant without listening to Stark protest. Darcy wheezed when Jane caught her in a bear hug, squeezing the air out of her. This was starting to be a new trend with Loki around.

“Darcy!”

“Uh, yeah, I’m _fine_ , Jane. As you can see. Which is also _exactly_ what I said half an hour ago.”

“When you were _kidnapped_. Under those conditions, you would’ve said that anyway to stop me from worrying.”

Darcy’s grin was awkward. “Err, well, he was just kidding?”

“It didn’t _look_ like kidding,” Jane muttered, the scientist’s hazel eyes were unusually hard.

“Well he _was_ ,” Darcy said, patting Jane’s arm. “His taste for jokes just runs on the weird and worrying side. And yeah, that was mean.”

The astrophysicist stared at her with suspicion.

“Why are you defending him?”

There really was no other way of saying this. “I _did_ tell you that we were friends, right? So I actually knew what happened.”

“Oh yes, _do_ tell everyone why you’re defending me?” Loki slyly tossed the question from Darcy’s left.

“I guess I was bored,” Darcy said, her voice dry. “Got nothing better to do.”

“And being suicidal was _obviously_ an improvement over that.”

She nodded sagely. “Oh, _obviously_. At least with you, I know I’d go out in _style_.”

Darcy didn’t miss the way Loki’s smirk grew at the indirect compliment but let him look prouder all the same.

“Yes, I noticed the sad collection that passes as clothing for you,” Loki replied. Darcy suppressed her own smug grin. Whatever she wore at home didn’t really stop him from surreptitiously staring when he thought she didn’t notice, so it wasn’t as if he actually had any grounds to complain.

Jane had only noticed just how sharp both of them were dressed and stared back and forth between Loki and Darcy, trying to comprehend what was going on.

“Not all of us has unlimited pockets, Prince Moneybags,” Darcy replied without rancour, “or nifty magic powers.”

“It’s good to know that you know your place, Lewis.”

Darcy had almost, _almost_ blurted out ‘ _Yeah, right on top of you anytime we can manage it_ ’, but she didn’t need to traumatise Jane. Yet. So she went with being selectively oblivious.

“You mean, _this place_ where I’m keeping you in check? _Of course_ I do. Who else is going to do that?”

Somewhere behind them, Natasha was giving a strident talking about what actually consists of emergency with Tony. He defended himself from any unexpected mess because he didn’t even think it was an emergency either. She’d only glanced at them when Darcy said her last sentence to Jane, before the redhead merely shook her head and walked out of the lab.

On the other hand, Thor was staring at Loki with wide eyes. He had lowered his hammer by now and took a deliberate step closer with the care of a man treading on thin ice.

“You are garbed in Midgardian attire, Loki,” Thor said.

“Some of us are much better at blending in new places than others,” Loki replied, pointedly eyeing Thor’s lumberjack-casual outfit. Thor didn’t seem to notice the dig at all.

“Is it true? Have you truly accepted the friendship of Lady Darcy?”

“The delusions of the masses have their uses,” He said, just as casual.

“Nope, I’m pretty aware you’re a jerkass, Loke.”

“Yet here you are—like others too happy with their bread and circuses to really _think_.” As well-spoken as he was, she was beginning to regret giving him access to all her books and the library. Jane stepped back from Darcy to get a good look at Loki, confusion on her face.

“If you think _that_ would insult me, you’re even more of an idiot than I thought.” Darcy replied.

He raised an eyebrow. “How many seasons of Game of Thrones have you watched? I’d say that media is the current opiate of the masses.”

Darcy stuck her tongue out to him. _Yep, feeling that regret now. Just when I thought he couldn’t be more of a smartass than before_. He smirked and gave her a lazy wave.

“Says the guy who’s actually humouring the mortal,” Darcy said. “Because SHIELD _sure_ threatens you when you fail to hang out with me. _Not_.”

“Who’s to say I’m not using you?” Loki asked back. “There are simply _so_ many ways to use you. Under skilled hands,  you won’t even mind it when I’m through with you.”

Her mind stuttered a little at the innuendo. He flicked his right hand out as if he was controlling a marionette. She rolled her eyes at him and flipped him the bird, but couldn’t stop a smile from emerging. If she was his marionette, then he was _hers_ —because she damn well knew which way to swirl her tongue to make him lose all coherence and _beg_.

“Whatever makes you sleep better at night, Dude,” Darcy commented.

“Your self-delusion is charming, Lady of Statecraft,” Loki commented.

“And your megalomania is _not_ , _Your Highness_ , but _I’m_ awesome enough to ignore it that way.” Darcy said dryly. From the weirded-out look on Jane’s face she noticed that she’d failed to tone down her grin. _Dammit, look cool, Lewis. Stay frosty_.

Jane was staring back and forth between the two of them as if they were juggling lit dynamites. She gave an awkward smile to the astrophysicist, which did nothing for her friend’s assurance if the way her eyes widened was any indication.

_Whoops, got to tone down the bed games before we freak people out_.

Darcy was never going to tell anyone even on pain of death how his impromptu title for her was giving her warm and fuzzy feelings—or how she was embarrassingly 90% on his side just for his use of it. Hence why she used his title as a courtesy in return.

Thor took a threatening step towards his brother with a thunderous expression.

“I will not have you impugn her honour for your own games. Speak frankly of your intentions or _leave her be_.”

Darcy could see the moment Loki stiffened and stood taller. She cursed and pulled away from Jane.

“You find that someone befriends me and your first thought has _naturally_ been of my misuse of them. Because _of course_ I have to deceive people to receive their assistance for my nefarious plans. Because that is what I _always_ do, isn’t it? For _Loki_ couldn’t have done _anything else_ but _lie_.” Loki’s voice was deceptively polite.

Thor hesitated. Tony was mumbling something that sounds like ‘fucking family drama’ and ‘Not paid enough to listen to this shit’ under his breath. He was fiddling with his StarkPhone while eyeing them carefully, perhaps trying to come up with a plan. Darcy had pre-empted him from trying out anything too harmful (to Tony, that is—she doubted he could harm Loki) and stepped in between the two brothers. She was right in front of Loki while Thor was two steps away.

“Well, now that we know everyone’s _fine_ , could we just go off and do our separate stuff for now?” She asked. “I mean, Jane, do you even need me to run all those analysis when you have new data to sort through? No, right?”

Jane sighed. “I supposed you could take a break for now. But Darcy—”

“I know you’re worried, Jane, but _please_ hold on to that thought for a while. You can throw all your arguments at me later when this shit is done.”

Darcy turned her attention to Thor, giving him her shiniest smile. It had always worked with Tory, and since Thor was also kinda like her big brother, she thought she had good odds in succeeding.

“Also, thanks for looking for me, big guy. I know you mean well, but I could handle myself. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Thor asked. “His words would charm the skin off a snake, and I would hate to see you hurt by him.”

Darcy ignored the eloquent snort behind her.

“I wasn’t exactly blind to his faults, Thor. You didn’t miss how I said he _is_ a jerkass, right? Great discussion partner, excellent devil’s advocate, beautiful mind yada yada, but the one thing he’s _not_ is a paragon of morality,” she said.

“Since you guys seem to have this sorted, I’m outta here,” Tony said. He made for a quick exit to the door and no one stopped him. Darcy took the time to wave to him.

“Sure. See you later, Tony!”

She turned her attention back to Thor after that, as well as the way Loki was getting wound up tighter and tighter behind her.

Thor sighed. “I merely worry for you.”

Before Thor could pat her on the shoulder, Darcy found herself shifting in a blink as they reappeared several feet away from Thor. Loki’s hand was on her waist. She might be wrong, but Darcy would bet her left hand that Thor had hit Loki’s possessive streak in an unwitting game of one-upmanship the two brothers were stuck in with each other. Thor’s focus was entirely on Loki, and the same could be said of his brother. Neither Asgardians might’ve realised how screwed up their dynamics were, but Darcy caught a weird look from Jane as she made confused gestures in the direction of the two males.

Darcy only shrugged, mouthing something like ‘ _family issues_ ’.

“Now that everyone is done _fretting_ , that would be our cue to leave.” Loki said. The two of them disappeared in a whirl of green.

‘-

It wasn’t a surprised that they landed back at her apartment. She was surprised at how they landed right on her bed.

For about one second.

Loki pushed _all_ the books and papers off it with a gesture of his arm. Darcy wanted to complain about her poor books being mistreated that way before she noticed how stormy his eyes were and how he was focused on nothing else in the world but _her_. He wasn’t even touching and her skin already lit up with warmth. She could feel his gaze wandering down, memorising the sunlight falling over her skin, and for some reason she was as nervous of his scrutiny as if she was _naked_.

“If you had put your mind to it, you would have captured Thor’s attention better than the stargazer could,” he said, as if they’d been having this conversation all this time. His tone had her heart pumping double time easily, a low easy purr.

She scoffed. “Have you _seen_ Jane? All you need to do is get her in the right dress and wham! Instant Disney Princess! Besides, she’s really, _superhumanly_ , nice once you get to know her.”

“Trivial things,” he stated.

“They are _not_ —”

Loki had trailed his index finger over her eyelids and then her nose, pausing on her lips. His eyes were dark with unsaid promises and she had to remind herself not to hold her breath.

“Wouldn’t _you_ want to be able to have the First Prince of Asgard in the palm of your hands? I could make him see what you are inside and fall for you.” His tones were dulcet, and she could easily believe he was casting a spell over her as he spoke.

“The fate of worlds would hang on your words. You could make any change you wish, any improvements you can only dream of right now to the universe if you ruled by his side.”

She hadn’t quite understood what he was saying until several seconds later, but her momentary silence did not seem to deter him. He was more intent on drawing a line down her neck. Darcy found herself tilting her head back without thinking, giving him access to her throat. She tried not to think about what his offer hinted to her about his history for now. She’d have time to think about it later

“By manipulating people?” She asked.

“By giving them what they don’t even realise they want,” was his reply.

His fingers traced a line of fire over her skin as he followed her collarbones under her blazer, a _frisson_ igniting heat in her centre. It uncurled through her whole being with the lazy ease of an awakening dragon—Darcy found herself _lounging_ , relaxing further with even the slightest touch. She licked her lips and saw his eyes dart to them.

“I’m not good at lying,” she answered. She thought back to her words again. “No, that’s wrong. I _hate_ lying. It would eat me up inside. I would rather tell people what I actually see and think—it’s not perfect, but it certainly isn’t bullshit, even if the last one would get me hired as a political aide.”

“Yet here you are instead of with the Thunder God,” he remarked. His fingers parted the buttons of her shirt like butter. She suspected it was magic.

“You know, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t _want_ to,” Darcy pointed out. She knew he had issues with his brother, but she had never thought insecurity might be one of them.

“Look, I damn well _can’t_ talk to Thor about political science, can I? Or with the physical science people and engineers? Whatever you are, you’re really great at this.” She said.

“And so you settled for the God of Lies?”

“It’s not _settling_ if it’s actually my first choice. Aren’t you going to brag about how great you are compared to those boring people without the fuckawesome brains _and_ magic? Come on, this humility thing is _totally_ not _you_.” She said with a huff.

“Anyway, I think people are wrong about your title,” Darcy concluded.

“You think I don’t lie?” He seemed amused. She wished he would smile more often—he was less burdened and the harsher lines on his face faded. His scent reached her as he leaned closer and her eyes fell half-closed. What she wished for right then was to have him with her again. Before she knew it, her hands had begun to toy with the buttons of his waistcoat.

“I think…that you are so great at crafting your image that you can make people draw their own conclusions from what you want them to see. You’re so good at giving answers that mean more than one thing. Most people just don’t think twice before taking the surface of whatever it is that they _think_ they heard from you.”

“And you’ve never corrected them of their assumptions, wrong or not,” she replied.

“Lies all the same,” he said.

She shook her head. “Not exactly. A misdirection, yes, but you’ve never actually covered the truth—it’s, like, _still there_ for anyone who cared to see. They just didn’t see it.” _I see it_.

Darcy shut her mouth before she said anything too incriminating or stupidly sappy. _I see you_.

What she couldn’t bear to say out loud was how she was beginning to think that most people had never cared to see at all. He wasn’t the easiest of people to be around, but Darcy couldn’t help but wonder whether anyone had even tried. Even as she bit her lip to hold her thoughts, perhaps something surfaced in her eyes all the same. He only took one glance before pushing her down on the bed, overwhelming her with kisses so deep that she almost couldn’t keep up. Her head spun with every taste of him. She gladly relinquished control as he pulled her under the surface and into sweet delirium, frantically wishing she could open his clothes faster.

What pulled her apart more than anything else was how raw his every touch was, honest in its desperation and the single-minded want for _her_. Darcy was tossing pieces of clothing to her left and right and went limp when he sunk his teeth into the curve of her shoulder and his hands caressed her sides. She whimpered; the slight pain highlighted the pleasure into a blindingly sharp edge. At this rate, she was going to explode before they went anywhere.

Loki usually mocked her for her impatience, at least until she drove coherence right out of him. This time, she received magical assistance to disappear their clothes (she’d never get tired of that).

When they kissed again, she was ready. There was sheer fucking _bliss_ from the delicious friction between naked skin and their joining wrenched a cry of relief from her and a wordless groan from him from how _right_ it was. She didn’t care that Loki was using more teeth than usual, intent on marking every inch of her because the keen ache inside her kept greedily asking for more. Her nails scratched him every time he found the perfect angle to make her see stars. With his feverish focus, he’d probably show her the entire galaxy before they were done.

But that was the _thing_. He touched her like a man possessed, driven to reclaim her before something else could stake a claim and she couldn’t quite understand _why_. _No one_ was closer to her than him. If she did not have enough words or lucidity to say so, it was there in the warmth of her embrace, in the acceptance in her kisses and how she could easily match his intensity move for move and never let him go. Before, she had never been quiet, but now she called out his name at the top of her lungs whenever her mouth was unoccupied. It was less of an expression and more of an effort to anchor him to her.

He drank her kisses thirsting distinctly for _her_ and her walls were crumbling. There was intimacy in his touches and her heart was filled with unfamiliar tenderness. Deep inside her, she knew something had shifted. They weren’t just trying to scratch an itch with each other anymore. She did not know whether it was familiarity that he was looking for and she had no idea why she would be the one to give him reassurance. She would gladly do it all the same; she had been truthful when she said he was a friend.

From the despairing edge in his eyes, Loki didn’t even _want_ anything else in the universe to matter but _them_ , and when he consumed her single-mindedly she echoed him with all of her sincerity as _la petite mort_ claimed them. It was impossible for her to not feel for him when she was holding him closely near her heart and she was close to his; she could see wounds there that he himself might’ve forgotten about. They stayed like that for a while, in each other’s arms while they were lost in the final flush of pleasure and their own scattered thoughts.

His thumb brushed over her cheek as Darcy’s eyes fluttered open again.

“You’re crying.” His expression was unreadable. She hadn’t realised it at all.

“Tears aren’t always a bad thing,” her voice was only above a whisper, and she found herself touching him back without thought, like the cheekbones that always fascinated her. Small, casual caresses that filled her with warmth.

“Oh. Nothing to do with how you’ve realised the sort of person you’ve invited to your bed?” He asked.

She wasn’t really in the mood to parry back and forth and she no longer found the ease he considered himself as a monster to be as harmless as it seemed. She only shrugged.

“Nothing like that. It’s just… _intense_.”

_You were honest_ , Darcy had thought, and wasn’t that the most alien thing she’d ever found out about Loki? Something so strange she hesitated about saying it out loud. People might be deceived by his words, but she found that his actions had never lied—what she thought she’d seen in his eyes, what she began to suspect he _wanted_ her to see, scared the living daylights out of her. Or perhaps it was the realisation that _he_ , the God of Lies, did so. Either way, she’d pushed most of it down and determinedly did not think about it.

“What is, Darcy?”

She looked away, unwilling to reveal too much, but he gently tipped her face to face him again. He was still waiting for the answer. _Quick, find something else, Darcy, anything—_

“I’ve never actually been kissed like that,” Darcy blurted out. She winced. Loki was curious.

“Like what?”

“Like—oh, you _know_ what the kiss was like,” she groused.

“If I do, I wouldn’t have asked,” he lowered his voice.

She tried staring him down and failing completely. He didn’t have to look at her with such fascination, and how he wished to unravel every little detail about her because he couldn’t imagine not knowing. Who was she, anyway? Why did he have to keep doing that? To keep looking at her like that?

“It’s not important,” she sighed, distracting herself with random stuff she could find on the bed, like that barely noticeable lump behind her. She wiggled a little and pulled the corner of azure out from where it was trapped between her and the bed. _Wait, how did that scarf get here?_ She was pretty sure she hung it up yesterday. He took it away and put it aside, carefully tipping her chin up again.

“I’m not important.” She said.

“Darcy…”

He leaned forward. For a moment, she was afraid that he was going to kiss her and she was going to fall apart from it. The words tumbled out of her without prompting.

“ _Everything_.” She finally answered, her voice hoarse. “You just—you gave me _everything_ in it. It’s not _fair_ to do that to someone you’re just wasting time with, Loki, _seriously_. How was I supposed to keep myself completely casual-like when you do _that_?”

Darcy took a deep breath, steadying her voice before the pitch went any higher.

“What the _hell_?”

He might’ve wanted to know the answer because he wasn’t one to tolerate other people’s secrets easily. From the way he froze, she realised even if this secret was his, it was one he had no idea of. He sat up and she unconsciously followed to stop them from separating; from losing this formless, delicate moment. His hands had not stopped telling her the truth as he stroked her skin, or the feather-light puffs of breath right below her ear.

“Loki?” She whispered.

She wasn’t sure if he heard her as he continued to extricate himself, his movements unreal in its listlessness, wavering somewhere between dreaming and waking. Clothes shimmered over him in a wave of magic.

“Loki?” She asked, louder this time instead of a mere whisper.

His steps paused at the door. For the weight over his shoulders or for the formless questions haunting him, she had no answer. The distance between them was covered by his ghosts; it was a crossing she did not know how to make for all that she wished to.

Then he was gone.

Darcy felt like repeatedly smacking the heel of her palm to her forehead. Things were starting to make less and less sense—like the current million dollar question of her life, for example.

 ‘How the hell did things fall apart so fast?’

“Shit,” she cursed. “What the _fuck_ just happened?”

‘-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that escalated quickly…
> 
>    
> Weird Stuff Endnotes (In Which I Ramble):
> 
> **_Bread and Circus_ :** _Panem et circenses_ , Latin, in politics this is means getting public favour and/or approval through superficial means that give good publicity than meanigful policies or change. The actions taken are then not for the long-run benefit of the state but is shallow and diversionary at least, and destructive at worst. Examples? The easiest one is the circuses and other public entertainments of the Roman empire. Keeps the population nicely satisfied without the politician needing to actually do _anything_.
> 
> **_“…media is the current opiate of the masses…”_ :** This would be Loki’s own interpretation of _“Die Religion ... ist das Opium des Volkes”_ more often rendered as “religion…is the opiate of the masses” The exact quote can be traced back to Marx in his work published in 1840 from his own journal _Deutsch-Französische Jahrbücher_. (I can’t exactly give a list of everything Loki had read, could I?) The larger context of the text is not _that_ anti-religion—that was just how most people who quote it used it. The meaning drifted.
> 
> Yet Marx isn’t actually the first to use the phrase either. Marquis de Sade used a similar turn of phrase in _Juliette_ in 1797 in a less flattering light than Marx.  Novalis and Hines used the same analogy. Even Charles Kingsley a canon of the church of England, used a similar phrase (four years after Marx published his work, it is unknown whether Kingsley was inspired by Marx or sources earlier than that).  
> ‘-


	17. XVII. The Distance between Our Sentences (Low Pressure Front)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Darcy returns to Jane’s ‘SCIENCE!’ Loki is AWOL. Darcy sucks at just waiting and doing nothing. She decides to talk with Tony. And Jane. Jane receives a call from an old friend. The Build up to the Meeting._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uploading now because? lost track of eating and sleeping a bit. Would screw up schedule even more otherwise. Yikes.

### The Distance between Our Sentences (Low Pressure Front)

Staying in her apartment when her thoughts were trying to trip each other in speculation wasn’t helpful at all, especially when there were more reminders here of whatever weird friendship there was between her and Loki.

Darcy decided to just take bath and used the opportunity to unwind and think. She wanted to go back to the lab, but had enough time passed or would it be too soon? Especially if Jane was going to bombard her with questions about just how exactly she and Loki knew each other and _what the fuck_ was the weird exchange of insults between them about (though probably with less curse words than Darcy would’ve put it herself). The problem was that she had no simple answer to that right now. Not to mention that she had no idea if telling Jane that was just the way she and Loki bantered wasn’t going to make Jane worry more. She walked thoughtlessly out of the bathroom, barely noticing the rasping of its hinges and picked the first thing that came to mind.

She had dressed herself in the suit Loki had came up with and huffed when she realised what she wore. She was too lazy to change now, so she took a dark-coloured cloche hat from her collection and pulled it over her head. It was hard to be thankful for the high heels, though, even if her ass looked awesome with every step she took in it. Her current choice of footwear was obviously flats. _Sorta neo vintage look ain’t too bad, right?_ A bit too formal to hit flapper girl, but she still caught the feel of the era…

…and yeah, she knew she was prettifying herself to feel better. She wasn’t even going to pretend she wasn’t restless.

_So, what’s the best place to escape to, right now?_

It was odd to realise that out of the hundreds of floors on Stark Tower, she wasn’t really that familiar with most of it. Oh well. She could just drop in at that library coffee shop again and try to map out all the arguments she had constructed for Thursday. _And then Loki would probably leave_.

A sigh. She couldn’t even argue to herself that it would be a _good thing_ when it happens anymore. She was sure she’d miss him.

 ‘-

At one point of her note-taking, Darcy gave up on trying to distract herself—she was spending more time staring out the windows and watching the lightest flake of snow fall down, though it would probably all melt into rain on the streets (the unexpected weather was due to some meandering jet stream or some such. She didn’t really follow all the details from the news). With a sigh, Darcy settled for messaging Tony and promising him that he could explain the incident at the lab.

He dropped in not half an hour later at her table in the 68th floor’s library coffee shop, taking the seat across her.

“Not that it isn’t good to see you alright, mind you, but can someone give me a longer explanation now?”

He looked as if he’d just pulled himself away out of yet another corporate meeting (she was starting to suspect that he was probably happy to have an excuse to do that). Darcy sighed.

“It’s a long story. Apparently, he’s bored enough that he’s annoyed when he’s unable to monopolise my time. Jane had the inspiration to start a new round of statistical tests and a new angle of study, so I’ve been pulling double time at the lab, leaving me with no time to hang out,” Darcy said.

That did not seem to appease Tony the least and his eyebrows shot up.

“You’ve been spending your free time voluntarily with _him_?”

“Somebody’s gotta talk with him,” she said. “You know, to actually remind him that humans are _people_? Show him the more interesting side of earth? Introduce him to cultural stuff worth knowing, like Star Wars, Star Trek and Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy?”

“And that person has to be you?”

She threw her hands in the air. “Well, it sure as fuck ain’t anybody else, is it? Besides, talking about why check and balance in governments are _necessary_? _That_ , I could do.”

He paused, staring at her more intently than he had before. For the first time she was more than a little thankful that Loki had somehow magicked the dress she was wearing into a purple-grey business suit, dark green belt and shoes notwithstanding. She now had one item of clothing that made people take her seriously (well, more seriously than usual) that doesn’t look outright like an interview outfit.

“Well, look at that. You actually _do_ want to do this?” Tony commented.

She took a deep breath before looking at him straight in the eyes. “Which part of me saying that he’s a friend of sorts did you miss?”

He scoffed.

“I was trying to forget that—with lots of hard liquor if necessary. Hearing about it now still doesn’t make any better sense to me.”

Darcy rolled her eyes but didn’t stop a smile from surfacing. “Sometimes I can barely believe that this is my life right now either. But yeah, I’m fine, Tony. You could stop worrying.”

“Kid, I _cannot_ stop worrying until he’s out of my tower.”

Tony gave her a look. As someone who’d been thrown out of a window by Loki, she had to admit he had a good cause to worry.

“Alright, _alright_. I get it, really. I just want to tell you that there’s nothing to worry about for now and it was just a false alarm.”

“Good to hear.”

“Yup,” she nodded.

“You said this is just a prank?”

“Yeah.”

“So, what happened?”

She began telling him of the story. Instead of beginning it with the comment Loki made this morning when she left for the lab, she opened it with the time she dropped in at his apartment on her lunch break just to tell him that her work load was stepping up. She told him that she hadn’t really thought about their conversation too much until he dropped in at the lab this afternoon. Tony nodded and raised a hand to stop her when he could identify the point where Jane contacted him.

“Wait, you’re saying that he voluntarily gave her _data_? That he’s playing nice with both of you for that?”

“Yep.”

“You’re pulling my leg.”

“Which part of it being a prank that you missed?” She asked.

“Yeah, but you got willing cooperation?” He raised an eyebrow. Darcy wasn’t concerned.

“Pffft, do we even know how advanced Asgardians are technologically compared to us? For all we know it might be like telling Galileo of how exactly planets go around the sun and along with detailed shit about their orbits. It would be enough for him to hold his position against the church back then, but not enough to build a rocket to space. I know that I’d do that if I ever time-travelled—and if I’m like Jane, I mean—it sounds like fun.”

Tony was mock surprised. “You actually _know_ of Galileo?”

Darcy pouted. “Laugh it up, Tin Man. Just because I don’t care about measuring energy levels and the life and death of stars doesn’t mean I didn’t start reading science history once I got on with Jane. Seriously, Tony, just drop in at Jane’s lab if you’re curious. I’m sure she’d gladly show her what we’ve gotten with Loki’s help if you asked.”

He leaned back in thought, probably tallying up whatever it was the he got from their conversation.

“Still, a deal with the devil? That’s actually a pretty nifty prank—don’t tell him I said that.” Tony said, quickly.

Darcy nodded. “I know what you mean—and don’t worry, Tony, I won’t. We don’t need two people with inflated egos in the tower. We still need enough space for rest of us fit in.”

“Ha _ha_ , Lewis.”

Darcy grinned, “So yeah, of _course_ I won’t do that, Boss-man.”

‘-

It didn’t surprise her that Tony couldn’t hang out for too long. She waved him goodbye when he left, but settled herself for some peace and quiet in the booth alone. Darcy was drinking some chamomile tea as she messaged Jane.

_How’s your numbers holding up with the new data?_

If she was really deep in research, the petite scientist would ignore almost all other outside distractions, her cell phone included, but Darcy was pretty sure Jane hadn’t gone past the point of no return yet right now. She wouldn’t wait on it, though. Once that was sent, her attention returned to the legal pad on the table and the notes she was making.

Some quarter of an hour later, a reply showed up.

_I thought you were with Loki?_

_Just because he dragged me away to discuss stuff (and bribed you with data for that) doesn’t mean I can’t contact you_ , Darcy replied.

She was not going to mention about the current mess they’d found themselves in and just answered Jane with what she and Loki were actually doing before they got caught in more royal family drama. Nope. That was _way_ too complicated for anything she wanted to talk about during work hours and sober.

_He didn’t bribe me with data!_

Darcy rolled her eyes. To be honest, Jane didn’t even need to feel guilt over it—she didn’t care. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know Jane was obsessed with her work several days into her internship, much less after more than a year of working with her.

 _Jane, it was a tasteless joke on his part, chillax. I’m_ not _strung up over a boiling cauldron or anything, unless you think discussing fascism in 20 th century Europe is as painful as a boiling cauldron_. Darcy was beginning to have more than a little déjà vu of her college days with this. It felt like the times when she had to juggle study groups or rotate the times she spent with different groups of friends.

She contented herself to doodling further and drinking tea. A reply came from Jane later.

_It was helpful. I managed to refine my current working model for microcosmic space-time folds further and separate more of a portal’s signature from the (still too big) leftover chunk of unsorted radiation, reducing the margin of error by a half. Did you know that what the Asgardians dub ‘portals’ are actually not-so-stable processes of—_

Jane went on in her physics mode for a while and Darcy did her best to keep her eyes from just glazing over once the physicist went into great numerical details. Not that Darcy had anything against numerical details, but physics equation weren’t the love of her life.

 _At least things are going well for one of us_ , she thought.

‘-

After hanging out for another hour her ideas trailed away into nothingness and her eyes followed the trailing snowflakes beyond the window more often than her page. When she couldn’t turn her thoughts away from what she thought she might have seen in Loki…she left. She was definitely his friend and didn’t mind helping him, but she drew the line on moping about his ass, no matter how fine that ass was. She hopped back to the lab for just to have something more productive to do.

As Darcy walked up to Jane, a perpetual frown seemed to have taken residence on the scientist’s forehead.

“Hi. Anything you want me to run right now?” Darcy asked.

Jane stared at her sceptically. “And you won’t be ‘kidnapped’ if I gave you some statistics to run?”

Darcy shrugged. “Who knows where the royal whim goes? He’s got his own stuff to do and I figured I could help you get things done in the meantime. Come on, are you complaining?”

The physicist sighed. “Not really…”

“Exactly. So what’s up, Janey?”

“Um, cleaning the data up?”

Darcy didn’t hide her cringing, along with the most pathetic sad face this side of the Atlantic. Jane looked apologetic. “I know, I _know_. We’re getting those interns soon. You don’t have to do that right now if you don’t want to—”

The brunette sighed, “I did say that I’d help you, didn’t I?”

“But you don’t have to stick with that,” Jane rushed, “there are still the, uh, reports coming in from state authorities and research stations on unusual local events that are possible anomalies. You can weed the more improbable ones out and find the ones with the best chance of actually being an anomaly, so we can plan for our next road trip?”

Darcy extended a hand to Jane, steeling herself to wading through tedious reports, witness accounts and checking numbers. The numbers on anomalous weather incidents were surprisingly the easier parts of it—she just had to find them and compare to the long-term averages. The issue would be whether they had any numbers to start use as averages—regionally, sure, but locally? She took a deep breath; she _did_ ask for more work, after all.

“Right. I could do that. Hand it over.”

Of course, it was just her luck that she’d gone through a third of it before Jane rushed back to her with a new pile of papers with numbers on them. Lots and lots of tables of numbers. She placed them on Darcy’s desk, filling her assistant with dread settling in her stomach. The astrophysicist was apologetic.

“Darce, I’m so, _so_ sorry!”

“I’m not going to like this, am I?” She tiredly asked. Jane bit her lip.

“You’ve got to adjust the averages you used as comparison with these. Since I’m not a meteorologist, as you’ve said, I decided to contact one that I’ve known for a while—Abraham Mosby. He said that if I was looking for anomalous weather incidents, he wouldn’t suggest relying on the longer-termed baseline because freak weather incidents happen more often nowadays. Both the frequency _and_ intensity changes. You know, climate change?”

“Like why this year’s fall seemed to be colder than usual?” She asked.

“Yep. Or well, my friend was open to the possibility that winter’s going to come early.” Jane stated. “And well, the one in the last two weeks need to be adjusted as well because Doomberg spewed a lot of ash into the atmosphere too.”

Darcy groaned. Who would’ve thought that damn volcano in the middle of nowhere from, like, _weeks_ ago would screw her life now?

“You’re saying I have to redo this pile I’ve done?” Darcy asked.

Jane’s smile was sheepish. “Uh, yeah?”

“Fan-fucking-tastic. When it rains, it’s actually a thunderstorm, eh?” The brunette murmured.

Jane shook her head. “I don’t know. You know I don’t actually have in-depth knowledge of weather sciences, right?”

Darcy dropped her forehead on the desk with a pained sound. “It was a figure of speech, Boss-lady. A figure of speech…”

The last thing she needed was to lose hours wondering why Loki had looked so worn inside. At this rate, trying to figure out all the twists in his mind was going to drive her mad if she allowed it. That is, if she actually had _time_ on top of all her work.

‘-

It took a while for Jane to realise that her cell phone had been ringing on Tuesday afternoon.

“Hello?”

“ _Sheesh, you’re a hard woman to reach, Jane. Do you know how many times I’ve tried calling you since yesterday?_ ”

A smile lit up her face. “Abe! Sorry about that—I didn’t expect you to call. I usually ignore my phone when I’m working.”

There was a snort from the other side. “ _Ignore your phone? Whenever you’re working, you block out_ the world _. I haven’t forgotten that_.”

Jane smiled and didn’t deny it. Abraham Mosby, meteorologist and weather physicist was a good friend she’d shared many undergraduate classes with. “I know. You’d actually reach me faster if you messaged or emailed me. What’s up? Something I need to adjust in the weather data again?”

No answer came in the next few seconds and the hum of her computer fan sounded unusually loud. She could even hear the huff he made on the other side of the line.

“Abe?” Jane asked.

“ _Uh, sorry, got distracted._ ”

“What’s wrong?”

“ _I don’t think your weather data would need any more adjustments. It’s just…I’d like to ask for a little help. You know the unusual aurorae we had—_ ”

“Oh, I _know_ ,” Jane was too excited to let the poor man finish his sentence. “The _aurora borealis_ went as far as Lisbon, didn’t it? Darcy downloaded pictures from as far as Lisbon, Cairo and Dubai. I bet the _aurora australis_ can also be seen farther north than it usually is. What was it, an unusually strong solar flare? A one-in-fifty years event?”

“ _Well, you see, this is why I need your help. I heard you were in some, uh, hush-hush astrophysics project or something similar in SI that may or may not be connected to SHIELD…_ ”

Now, he sounded nervous. She could imagine his free hand in his coat pocket, slowly twisting the fabric and adding creases to it while he wore down the carpet. The more worried he was, the more restless he would be.

“Abe—”

“ _I’m not trying to get you to spill state secrets or anything, I swear!_ ” He insisted. “ _It’s just that I’m out of other leads, okay? And I thought, what’s the harm in just asking for clues, for a hint, for_ anything _, because my whole department’s pulling their hairs out at this rate. We’re stumped, and when I say_ we _I do include the friends I have in NOAA—_ ”

Jane’s stomach plummeted. If she understood him right, what he was saying was the NOAA, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, the scientific agency responsible for the monitoring of the oceans and atmosphere, didn’t have an idea about the aurora.

 “Abe, what are you talking about?” Her words were clipped now, her tone unconsciously lowered.

His voice hitched, just slightly. “ _I just… I just wanted to know if this is like Puente Antiguo_.”

For some reason Jane was too glad that she followed Darcy’s recommendation to keep her personal phone separate from her work phone and that she bought it herself. Jane remembered how that Abe was one of the few people she’d told just before SHIELD imposed a blackout on her work. She knew he could keep his head down and not tell anyone and at the same time cool-headed enough to give her feedback. The least she could do was return the favour.

“Wait a second,” she replied, checking back the data they had on it, just to be sure.

Before her work was vindicated, he was also the person with the patience to edit out their scientific papers to make sure Jane didn’t include anything too bombastic or speculative that would stop them from being published, calmly pointing out to her that it was more important to get _something_ out than nothing at all, so could she _please_ not be so stubborn about this? If they weren’t co-authors for a while before she wrote her more breakthrough findings on Einstein-Rosen Bridge, she was sure the university would’ve fired her. He was more than just a good friend. They had a good working relationship for a while now and she trusted him and his work the same way he trusted her and her work.

_If he was worried…_

“It’s not the same as Puente Antiguo,” she assured him. “Believe me, that’s the first thing I checked too.”

Well, Darcy had checked it for her, but it was the same thing. Her assistant was almost as good as she was already.

“Seriously, why so worried about an errant solar flare?” Jane asked.

A beat. More silence stretched out, tense and prickly.

“ _There were no solar flares at that time, Jane dear._ Nothing _. We have an aurora whose source we don’t have a clue about._ ”

She didn’t like how his voice sounded so damned tired.

‘-

Darcy didn’t see Loki on Wednesday and she was fine with that. He needed his space, she get that. She did wonder about whether he’s seriously trying to duck away from her, though—she saw her coffee table was once more a mundane coffee table she’d bought and put together one evening instead of his Old World, genuine oak chest. She was torn between just letting him be and finding him just to give him a piece of her mind about unhealthy communication habits.

Jane was in top form in the lab, even if she seemed to be frowning more than usual and Darcy dutifully followed suit in her labours. Figuring what to do wasn’t exactly quantum physics. She tried asking Jane once about what was wrong and her friend went on a rather lengthy side tangent on the nature of ion-something-something in the magnetosphere, unusual signatures yada-yada windy stuff not right for ten minutes. Darcy decided afterwards that she was _not_ going to ask again. _Nuh-uh_.

Right now, what she _did_ decide to talk about to Jane about Thor. If she couldn’t do anything about Loki she wanted to at least try something for the blond Asgardian.

“Why do we have to eat lunch outside the lab? We’ve always eaten in the lab,” Jane asked, as Darcy pulled her to the coffee shop on the 71st floor.

“ _I_ don’t. I get out at times and _you_ need to get out more,” Darcy replied. Jane folded her arms in front of her chest.

“Why lunch?”

“Long story. Seriously, let’s just get to Tony’s usual booth and I’d go on more details with you. I’m not talking about it out in the open—that’s just really bad infosec, Janey. I might be an impromptu IT manager for a division of _two_ , but I take information security seriously.”

Jane was still giving her a suspicious look. “You’ve been stalking SHIELD agents in the cafeteria again, haven’t you?”

“I _did not_. I just happen to eat in my favourite seat in the middle of the room, and if they talk shop within my hearing, well, it’s a free country. I can’t complain about what they choose to talk about, can I?” Darcy insisted.

She certainly had the clearance to know most of their stuff, anyway. What does it matter how exactly she got her intel when they were all in a public area anyway? She’d chatted with several of the agents a few times too, but she’d prefer to cross-reference what they were saying with what she found through other means (Jarvis included), just to be sure.

Darcy swiped her card on the nondescript library door. She couldn’t help the smug expression on her face when Jane gasped over how large the whole place was with tastefully retro details and the perfect utilisation of natural light; it could have easily been turned into a concert hall instead of a library and it would still look perfect.

“I didn’t know Stark Tower had a library,” Jane said.

“Me neither, not until I tried looking for them.”

She didn’t imagine the light burning in Jane’s eyes at the thought, or the way Jane suddenly held her wrist with convincing emergency.

“’ _Them_ ’, Darcy? There’s _more_?”

“There’s another one of a more general bent that anyone can visit. This one is more restricted—more technical books are here, and probably more Stark-Industry-only files. If my access card could get us here, I’m sure yours can as well,” Darcy said. “You could check it out later when you’re free, Doc, but for now we’re going to _that_ coffee shop.”

 “Why?”

“Patience, padawan.”

Jane grumbled under her breath but followed anyway. Darcy hoped she could still request the booth that Tony or Pepper had always asked for when they were meeting. Her luck held; it seemed that she was given unparalleled access to it now since she was a known associate of the CEO—and how trippy was _that_?

She pumped her fist into the air. “Whoo! Jackpot! We could use it!”

The waitress did not seem to comment at all at Darcy’s undignified outburst, perhaps smiling a little. _Wow, really classy_. Whatever their wages were, it certainly wasn’t at pitiful minimum wage levels that her part-time jobs used to be at.

“ _Darce_ ,”

“Look, you gotta see the booth for yourself to understand why,” Darcy explained as they followed the young woman towards the back. The soft lighting and omnipresent wood panelling reminded her of the better class of clubs from the roaring 20s. Jane’s attention was drawn towards the glimmer of silver letters etched into the frames of the floor and walls, girding the room in all three dimensions. From the scrutiny she gave it, the brunette was sure her boss was impressed. Darcy made her order and pushed the menu towards Jane. Jane took one glance and ordered espresso. Both went for sandwiches.

“There,” Darcy said. “ _Now_ we can talk.”

“But what’s all _this_ for?” Jane asked.

“Anti-eavesdropping measures, both technological and magical. Tony showed it to me in our first serious meeting and I thought it was a good idea to use it now.”

“Your first serious meeting?” Jane raised an eyebrow. Darcy nodded, undeterred.

“Yeah. He’s calling the Avengers and everything this Thursday. That was why I pulled in the extra hours on Saturday—I’d probably be gone for the first half of Thursday, if not the whole day altogether.”

It had probably only registered to Jane then that Darcy hadn’t been joking at all.

“You have a meeting on Thursday,” Jane stated. “Then all those administrative meeting you were having—”

“—were preparations for this one.”

“And they’re calling the Avengers in.”

“Bullseye.”

“That’s…”

“Awesome?” Darcy offered. “Worth getting out a Power Rangers costume for?”

Jane was not nearly as relaxed about it. Her voice rose in tone. “What on _earth_ happened, Darce? One moment Loki escaped and found _you_ at the lab, the next thing I know your kidnapping by him was a _joke_ and you have a meeting with the Avengers?”

Darcy sighed seeing the tension in Jane’s face. “I had an idea about moving his custody. I pitched it to Pepper Potts, who just _happened_ to be our CEO. I have no idea why she was interested in me in the first place either, so don’t ask me about it. Well, Tony was there too as a member of the Avengers and the meeting was _his_ idea.”

Jane was still staring at her with wide eyes. Darcy raised her hands helplessly.

“Don’t ask me about it, seriously. It’s definitely not physics or science or anything you’d miss not attending, just politics. I can go into the details if you _really_ want to know, but do you?”

“Politics,” Jane said with a sigh. “I hate politics.”

“I _know_ ,” Darcy said, patting her hand sympathetically. “That’s why I’m not dragging you into this. You’re not really missing out much by not being there.”

“So that’s why we went all the way here just for lunch?”

“What? Oh, _no_ , not really. I just said that because I remembered I haven’t told you about it and it’s, what, two more days away? Wait, no, it’s _tomorrow_. Anyway, I pulled you here because I wanted to talk about Thor.”

Jane frowned.

“I swear, if this is about his hammer again—”

Darcy burst laughing and cut Jane’s tirade before it gathered steam. “No! I mean, yeah, I still want to know, but I wouldn’t troll you that much, Jane. It’s just…”

She tried to collect her thoughts together and her smile fell. There was this one huge Asgardian mess that she could see in front of her with no easy end or beginning. She would feel better if she could chip a chunk off it.

“Have you ever thought of getting Thor to talk about his family? It doesn’t have to be you. It could be a therapist, but I think it would do him a world of good.”

“You think he has a problem with it?”

Darcy shook her head quickly as Jane’s tone had gotten oddly defensive. “I think there’s a shit ton of issues in his family if he could admit that he does miss his brother from their old days, and yet their first opportunity for a conversation devolved quickly into him throwing accusations at said brother. Something doesn’t add up, and whatever it is, it’s probably not pretty.”

“Well, Loki doesn’t have a good track record—”

“I _know_ that,” Darcy said, digging the nails of her hand into her palm to calm herself down. Being angry wouldn’t help her achieve anything. It would be cathartic, sure, but it wouldn’t solve _anything_. She could almost hear Sarah’s voice in her ear when Darcy asked her friend about how to stop reacting to how some ass kept leering at her and trying to rile her up.

 _“Deep breaths, Darce. Imagine him in a clown makeup and making a fool of himself naked in front of the class. Come on, you can do it. If I can do it, then it would be a piece of cake for you too_. _”_

_Darcy scoffed._

_“You? Why do I have to compete with you? You scare half the competition to death in most debate tournaments you enter, ‘Stone-cold Sarah’, and you actually_ smile _when your opponent is a strong team!”_

_Her laughter was loud and free. “I just had a lot of practise by now, Darce. You wouldn’t believe how much of a brat and a loose cannon I was when I was in school. It was embarrassing. You could try asking my Dad about it some time. Or about what Karen had to deal with when she first married Dad.”_

They paused as their food and drinks arrived. Darcy took a sip of her hot chocolate. _Think of your endgame, Lewis_. She’d hashed her core arguments out with Sarah, leaning a lot on her good friend's psych degree. Darcy knew she could present it properly to Jane and show her what she saw.

“Thor could just ask Loki what he’s doing. Or, he could confirm just how secure everything is through Tony or Natasha, who seems to know a _lot_ about Loki’s handcuffs the last time we all sat down for a _nice_ cup of tea.” It was hard to filter out sarcasm completely from her tone, but she still managed to be polite. “The accusations, though? That’s not as much as security concerns as it shows that even with Loki with handcuffed and stripped of his ability to bring harm with his magic, _Thor doesn’t trust him_.”

“For a good reason,” Jane said.

Darcy sighed. “I didn’t say his reason was _bad_ , but isn’t he jumping into conclusions too fast? For someone who _wanted_ his brother to trust him again and reform their bond, _Thor doesn’t even trust Loki_. Now tell me, how on earth is that supposed to work? _It doesn’t_. He could _choose to not trust his brother_ and accept that they would be distant for the rest of their lives _or_ he could _learn to trust his brother again_. He has to take a risk to see whether Loki could actually be trusted.”

 _“_ Thor can’t stop distrusting his brother and yet he wishes that they could be buddies! Do you see where the contradiction is? _Trust doesn’t work that way!_ I don’t think he even realises the conflicting thoughts he has about it—see what I mean about issues? Neither of them can get anywhere from where they are right now without getting through that.”

“And you think he should just trust Loki?” Jane asked, sceptical.

Darcy frowned. “If he still couldn’t trust his brother, then he _shouldn’t_ fake it. That would be worse. But it’s not healthy to believe that they could be as they had been before either. That’s impossible. Even broken bones don’t return to how they were before—they mend, but they become something new.”

“And you believe Loki’s side of the story?” Jane asked.

Darcy spread her hands wide, a little despairing and mostly just annoyed. It was only recently that she became aware of how many people doubt Loki’s intentions. She thought she knew, but it does not compare with listening to them day in, day out. It was a relentless wave rising with the tide of fear—and it was not even _wrong_ , only misplaced. After all, there were more than enough things to be afraid of now in this brave new world of aliens and superpowers.

“I don’t even _know_ his side, because he’s a touchy bastard of the first order and he clams up tighter than a virgin with a randy date whenever anyone gets too close.” Darcy ignored the slight colour on Jane’s cheeks at her words.

“Even if we take the worst case scenario where Loki is a total sociopath—which I don’t think it’s true—Thor would _still_ be hurt because he still wanted them to be like they were before—he still remembered Loki as he _was_ , not as he _is_. At the very least he needs toget over _that_. He needs to face the reality of what his brother is like _now_ , not stick to some outdated, romanticised image of the past. They have _issues_ and Thor is _blind_ to most of it.”

“Since _you_ might even be next in line to be queen, _you_ need to know how much mess he’s going to drag you into and how many issues he has.” She said. Darcy raised her mug to Jane in a mock-salute.

“Don’t say yes if he proposes until you find out, Janey.”

“I don’t even know whether I want to marry him!” Jane insisted, but her face had brightened with a vivid hue that gave away the direction where her thoughts lay.

“I know, but better to know them early on than let them get the jump on you when you least expect it, right? And these are just the problems that are visible. He’s definitely _not_ going to work through them by pretending they’re not there. So please… just think about it. Talk to him, find a therapist, do _something_.”

Darcy wasn’t above begging to get what she wanted, and it was even easier when she was working to help someone else. She must’ve seemed really pathetic because Jane caved easily.

“I’ll come up with something about it,” Jane said.

Darcy heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank you. That’s all I could ask for.”

She focused on her food while Jane was lost in thoughts, sipping her coffee. Both of them still had many things to think about.

‘-

For Jane, at the beginning it was hard to understand what moved Darcy.

The busty brunette had interacted with Loki for significant periods for what Jane guessed was several times already, and some of them were _voluntary_. Their caustic exchanges aside, there was something resembling a rapport between them—she couldn’t imagine anyone else can sling insults at Loki casually without suffering from repercussions, and yet Darcy managed to do just that. It boggles the mind. The fact that her friend and assistant had always escaped unscathed and without any emotional toll was a stronger clue—Jane was pretty sure getting menaced by people does not turn you into sympathisers and crusaders for them.

“Why do you even care so much about this?” Jane asked.

“Because both of them are _still_ hurting, they’re not getting anywhere and _it’s driving me nuts_ ,” Darcy said, surprising the scientist with her vehemence.

“If Loki wants to brood in his head after people tried to help him, it would be his problem. Yet I also think Thor needs to know about what options he has. He doesn’t have to be stuck wondering about his brother for the rest of his life if he didn’t want to. There are people who can help him _move on_.”

She carefully picked through her sandwich while Darcy was done with her minutes before.

“Was it that obvious? I’ve never really noticed it from Thor.”

Darcy shrugged. “How often do you hear Thor actually talk about Loki? I don’t believe he’d talk about it unless you flat out ask him,” she said easily. “I’ve interacted with both of them _and_ saw them interacting enough, so I saw it.”

Jane tilted her head a little to one side, tapping her chin in thought. She did not believe that it was as simple as Darcy had made it. There was something the brunette wasn’t being forthcoming about, but she wasn’t sure whether it was any of her business or not.

“Well, I _did_ interact with them when the whole Convergence problem went down, but I don’t think their problems were obvious.”

Loki never cared to clarify his motives, and that had always made Jane a little uneasy. She was a scientist by nature; she was transparent because she believed in accountability. Loki was as straightforward as a riddle wrapped in an enigma hidden in the core of a _neutron star_. He did not trust her—she had the suspicion that he barely trusted anybody—and she found it difficult to give him her trust because of it.

Darcy shook her head. “But you’ve already sided with Thor when you met Loki—you were his girlfriend at that point. It’s hard to be sympathetic with your boyfriend’s bratty younger brother that you see as being the source of his grief and pain. I just happen to stand as Thor’s friend at the beginning and then somehow I became Loki’s too. I saw where they both come from and I don’t actually like seeing either of them hurt.”

That was…well. Jane hadn’t tried thinking it from that angle. Perhaps it could be useful.

“It’s hella complicated,” her friend affirmed, oddly more than a little annoyed at herself.

“You could certainly just pick a side,” Jane said, curious and poking. Darcy gave her friend a disbelieving stare.

“Pick a side? What is this, kindergarten? I thought you were all for getting all the data first before making theories, because otherwise we’d be tempted to fit the data to our pet theories.”

Jane gazed heavenward.

“Yes, I _do_ know how scientific principles work, Darce.”

“ _Data, data, data_ ,” Darcy said. “And whether it’s anomalies or people, _it’s still the same thing_.” she insisted.

“Why take conclusions now when you don’t even know what the hell went wrong during the decades Thor and Loki knew each other? Who had hurt whom and when? Is the way he’s acting in attacking New York similar to how he’d always been in those aeons, or is it really out of the ballpark? Someone should’ve been asking a lot of questions after New York, see? I don’t know the answers to those questions and _you_ don’t know either. There is no guarantee that it would be simple.”

“If we begin guessing before we have enough facts, we’ll distort reality to fit theories instead of changing theories fit it to reality.”

Jane nodded, grudgingly acknowledging the holes that would definitely affect the conclusions they can take.

“You just have to start with no assumptions and keep your eyes open for clues. Then, you keep updating your worldview when new stuff comes along.”

Brown eyes meet hazel, and Darcy stood her ground once more with more confidence than most would see her in the lab. This wasn’t the lab assistant that would gladly leave all executive decision on the direction of the research in Jane’s hands. What Jane saw once more was the young woman that had negotiated Jane’s patent and intellectual property agreements with Stark Industries, even when she had to bunker down and discuss the mind-numbing details with the lawyer Jane had retained. Darcy _believed_ in this, in what she thought was necessary to make the world a better place and had studied not a little about it. She would fight for it.

“You’re not afraid even when you know he’s destroyed _cities_?” Jane asked, the worry colouring her tone all this time had all but receded. This was why they had clicked in the first place: she was never afraid to ask when she truly wanted to know _why_ and Darcy was just as uninhibited that way.

“It’s my life to risk, so why not? I’m not asking you to gamble yours if you don’t trust him. But I want to—there’s more to his story than meets the eye and I want to find out. No one else had even _tried_ to trust him.”

Jane mused. “Maybe it was because he hasn’t been trustworthy?”

“Since when? Has he _always_ been untrustworthy? If he was, do you think Thor would’ve trusted him to watch his back when he’s facing danger head on in his adventures? For _centuries_?” Darcy replied just as rapidly, easily. She had rarely seen Darcy this spirited about anything that wasn’t an unlimited gigabyte internet connection, her brown hair bounced with every emphasis she made.

“We can drive a _truck_ through the holes of what we know about him. We don’t know enough to make any solid conclusions Janey.”

She sighed. “It’s still quite a risk, though.”

Darcy pursed her lips, dissatisfied but still thinking. Her short nails rapped a rapid beat on the table.

“Look, you’d run headlong to any new anomaly we’d find, wouldn’t you? ‘For Science?’ Even if you know it’s dangerous?” Darcy asked. “This is like that for me.”

“Your greatest passion is to _trust Loki_?” Jane stared at her oddly. The curvy brunette rolled her eyes.

“The _Truth_ , Jane. I want to get to the bottom of everything, and _that_ is worth the risk.”

For a moment they weren’t just boss-and-underling, or lab scientist and assistant. They were friends and compatriots. There was something they both believed in no matter how different the guises it took for each of them. They were seekers of truths in their own fields. In this small local space, in that pocket of time that was theirs and no one else’s, Jane could almost see the star that Darcy was chasing. For Darcy, the odd quirks that never quite add up in Loki were a challenge instead of a source of frustration. She would valiantly face it rather than back down because sloppy conclusions were simply not in her books.

For Darcy Lewis does not take shortcuts when it comes to people.

“I’ve never thought about it before, but you really _are_ Loki’s friend, aren’t you?” Jane asked. There was also a hint of something else in her own voice that Jane hadn’t noticed until now. Surprise, maybe? _No, it wasn’t surprise._ It was…intrigued, interested. It was enlightment and realisation.

Darcy huffed and threw her hands in the air.

“How many times do I actually have to say that before people believe me?”

Jane actually considered the question seriously, pausing in her meal. “Anyone befriending Loki is an event of such low probability that I couldn’t help but consider it nonexistent.”

The assistant tried to process the sentence into something in the vernacular. She narrowed her eyes at her boss some time later.

“Hey, that was _mean,_ Janey.”

“I’m just telling it as it is!” Jane blushed—knowing she’d dismissed him in some way before she knew him tripped up her feelings of guilt. “I think even Loki would see the same odds that I see!”

Darcy went quiet at that as she fiddled with the decorative cucumbers. It worried her friend for a few seconds before she spoke up again.

“And _that_ , I think, is one of the saddest things in the world,” Darcy said.

The words were soft and their meaning alien that Jane couldn’t be sure she had actually heard Darcy said them, particularly when they were so _strange_.

‘-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kinda enjoyed this chapter because I don't often see Jane and Darcy portrayed as equals—they might not be in the same (or even close) specialisation, but they respect each other's skills and abilities enough to give weight to the other's opinions on their fields. Darcy is also getting as much secondhand expertise as she can from Sarah (and her other major).
> 
>  
> 
> Random Notes on Quotes and Terminology:
> 
>  ** _Data, data, data_ :** Can’t resist slipping in my favourite quote from Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes.
> 
>  _If we begin guessing before you have enough facts, we’ll distort reality to fit theories instead of changing theories fit it to reality_ : Based on my second favourite quote from ACD, paraphrased to Darcy’s lingo; ‘ ** _It is a capital mistake to theorize before one has data. Insensibly one begins to twist facts to suit theories, instead of theories to suit facts._** ’ Sherlock Holmes in _A Scandal in Bohemia_.
> 
> (Yes, it’s obvious that I’m a classic Holmes fan).
> 
>  ** _Magnetosphere_ :** Earth’s magnetosphere is the area of space around earth that is influenced by the earth’s magnetic field. Any charged particle there is thus affected. An aurora occurs when the magnetosphere is whipped up enough by the solar wind that particles from the magnetospheric plasma as well as the solar wind goes down to the earth’s upper atmosphere (thermosphere / exosphere), where they lose energy. Further interactions with particles in this layer emits lights and creates the lightshow that is the aurorae.


	18. XVIII. Many Meetings, Part 1 (Avengers Assemble)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Boardroom Battlefields. We see a bit more of Pepper and Tony. Tony enjoys being himself a bit too much. Several strong personalities clash in one talk. Darcy is nervous. The plot gains traction. Not necessarily in that order._

### XVIII. Many Meetings, Part 1 (Avengers Assemble)

Darcy arrived back home on Wednesday evening after putting final touches to the plan with Tony, because Pepper was off to a meeting somewhere else—Jane had managed to stop at a decent hour that she didn’t have to duck out of the lab for the meeting. She did wonder why Tony seemed to be a bit freer to hang around in the Tower than the other members of Avengers lately, but eh, maybe he’s fixing his suit, or something. The reason was probably above her clearance, so she stopped wondering because she probably would never figure out the precise _why_.

Now, as Darcy sat alone in her apartment once more she tried to remember what she usually did when she wasn’t hanging out with Loki. Obviously, there were all the chores that needed doing at once. Stuff like her laundry. Maybe she would run into him sometime later.

It didn’t happen, but well, she’d tried.

Darcy had not seen him all day either. She did tell him that he could leave to the meeting with her, didn’t she? So she sent him an email during the night, just to affirm that, and then stopped herself from repeatedly checking her inbox. She was well aware that no reply would be coming if he’s still in a misanthropic mood, but some part of her brain didn’t seem to understand that.

_You didn’t even get the non-sequitur emails_ , she reminded herself. He sometimes sent her random questions when something he read baffled him. She didn’t mind answering them the best she could between her actual works at the lab. (She spammed him with the links when she didn’t know about a topic all that much—might as well get some mileage out of SI’s JSTOR and Elsevier subscription).

She forced herself to just lie down on the bed and sleep.

‘-

Morning came and even with the adequate sleep she had, she still didn’t feel well rested. Maybe it was just nerves. She almost took her most broken-in jeans and fluffy hoodie before she remembered who she’d be facing and sighed. She did _not_ need to be given the Glare of Doom by Director Fury and one less reason for people to question her would be nice. She sat up and tried to find something to wear from among her laundry piles, and maybe search the occasional clothes in her closet too.

Ironically, the best office wear she owned now was the dark, purple-grey suit Loki had came up with on the spot. There were the standard black or navy blue ones she had for several job interviews, but they were frankly _boring_. Darcy supposed she could actually buy several new ones with her current wages at SI but she had never found enough spare time yet to do so. The end result was the same as when she was just a broke student; she _still_ didn’t have enough shiny stuff to wear. The magically created suit jacket had been hung some days ago without any visible creases and she had washed the other items already. All it would take was a little ironing.

_Oh, who the fuck would know that Loki did your wardrobe, Darce? If they make a fuss about it, you can tell them to go screw themselves because it’s none of their business if he wants to try his hand at fashion. It’s certainly a better hobby than taking over the world._

_Let’s go with that_.

Even if she had to wear the pine green killer pseudo Manolo Blahnik that went with it because it totally matched the belt. There was also the metal snake brooch with jade eyes that she found attached to the jacket some time afterwards. (She was definitely going to add a warm cloche hat on top—knitwear was her comfort clothes and she still wanted to give a nod to the old grungy her).

Darcy reminded herself to ask Loki about where her old and comfy Nikes went when he poofed her old clothes away.

 ‘-

She was ready by nine and had half an hour to waste when she plopped herself on the couch. Ten minutes of Flappy Bird later and another five minutes of being either bored or worrying herself to death on the upcoming meeting, she jumped up and marched out of her apartment without caring.

Darcy rapped her knuckles on the door of apartment number eight.

Loki seemed to be taking his sweet time. When the door opened, he did not look like he was in a good mood based on the tension visible in his neck, just before he forcibly relaxed himself. It was too bad because he looked impressive in an almost-black suit of dark green with a waistcoat of dark grey.

“ _Yes?_ ” He bit out.

His expression said ‘ _bite me_ ’. If he’d actually said that out loud, she would’ve said ‘gladly’.

“I’m ready to go and the waiting is _killing me_ here. Can I just hang out at your place while we wait?” Darcy asked.

His gaze was cold and piercing. For all she knew he might be trying to reclassify her as insect and try to convince her that she should just accept the new category. And stay away. _Nope, not happening_. Not until she knew _why_.

“Look, it’s just for another fifteen minutes or so. I can’t get into mischief in just a quarter of an hour.” What she meant was that _they_ can’t get into mischief.

“I fail to see why your boredom is my responsibility,” Loki said.

_Urgh, someone’s in frigid bitch mode_. Darcy took a deep breath. “What _are_ you so busy doing this morning, anyway, that I’d get in the way?”

“You’ll _always_ get in the way. If you weren’t, you’ll find a way,” Loki said. There wasn’t any accusation in his tone; he stated this as if it was just another fact of life, one he had resigned himself to. She would be mildly insulted if he didn’t look fatigued. Yet he hadn’t closed the door on her face, so she supposed his mood wasn’t _that_ bad.

“I’ll just sit on your couch and read, how about that?”

She could see him holding back the urge to sigh, but for some reason he stepped aside all the same. She quickly walked in before he changed his mind.

Darcy knew it was stupid, but for some reason she felt mildly betrayed when she saw that the table in front of his couch was that chest that she had become familiar with seeing in her living room.

‘-

Loki had dunked his head into cold water in the bathroom, trying to clear his head and divert his thoughts from the Midgardian in his sitting room. At this rate, the mortal didn’t even have to do anything and he’d drive himself mad.

When he opened the door this morning he did not really expect to be greeted with a bright-eyed Darcy Lewis. What had passed for formal wear in professional situations on Midgard displayed Darcy’s curves better than her usual preference for loose clothing, wonderfully so. She made it ~~better~~ worse by choosing the outfit he made on a whim than anything else she’d already owned, right up to the brooch with eyes of light jade representing the Viðr Serpent. Most paramours he knew would’ve casually taken anything but the last, knowing how it was practically his sigil.

Her light scent curled around him like a friendly cat, the touch of gardenia evoking memories of smooth skin under his hands and he clenched his fist to stop from reaching out. He was lucky that she hadn’t thought to scan her surroundings due to her inexplicable trust in him. If she had, she would’ve seen the crack and chips falling from the door frame where he had gripped it with all his strength.

The other alternative was to bring her down on his bed and made sure she forgot anything else but his name and _he was perfectly fine with that_. Currently, there were more than a hundred reasons as to why he should just go ahead and do that and only a dozen of reasons as to why he shouldn’t. Even his calculating side pointed out that there was nothing wrong with not showing up to the meeting—it would demonstrate to the mortals and Thor that they could capture him, but they would not have his cooperation when he did not wish it.

Loki still had enough sense to notice that he was making rationalisations for a decision he was already set for instead of collecting actual arguments for and against it.

He didn’t like this.

It would’ve been an easier wait if he had declined her entrance to his place, but he could not bring himself to do that either. He was stuck, worse than a pig over a roaring fire.

Would he give in so easily? Lose his will to his own weakness? No. She was interesting company, but he would not allow himself to be diverted. He _will_ attend whatever arrangement they had in mind and humour the mortals. Then, he’d get back to his plans.

‘-

Darcy messaged Tony (and Pepper, just to be sure) that Loki would be arriving with her through mundane means and it wasn’t necessary to summon him. She promised that she’d update before getting on the elevator. Tony gave her the location of the meeting room and wished her luck. Pepper assured Darcy that she would be there and would help—even when Darcy already knew that, strangely enough, it still helped.

Loki spent an inordinate amount of time in the bathroom and she didn’t think twice about it. Who knows what his grooming ritual was? When he came up, he still looked as severe as he had been before. It was a bit of a disappointment since she was hoping his mood had improved. She glanced at her phone and saw that they still had twenty five minutes before the meeting started.

“Want to leave now or wait for a bit more?”

“I’ll teleport directly into the chamber.”

“ _Not_ recommended. You’re not supposed to startle people who’re combatants when you have questionable allegiance. Besides, who knows what magic drain stuff they placed in the room? It’s safer to just walk there.” Darcy said. She paid attention about the stories Tory told her about his friends and even the people without PTSD could be jittery.

“Just the floor’s location, then.”

She agreed easily on the compromise. Loki had sat down on the couch instead of preparing to leave. His StarkPad was suddenly at hand and Darcy could only stare.

“Why aren’t we, like, leaving?”

“You have just said that it is not yet the time.”

“Well, yeah, but we still have to walk and _get there_ —”

“Negligible with teleportation,” his attention was taken up by the StarkPad more than her. She felt slightly insulted that she was less interesting than whatever app it was.

“What do you still need to do, anyway?”

This time, he did turn to her. “What does it look like, Miss Lewis? I am assisting the bird clans in their quest for vengeance against the tribe of pigs.”

The sound of her facepalm rang through the room.

‘-

Darcy was getting antsy ten minutes before the meeting. She’d been walking back and forth so often that it began to annoy Loki. He stood up and gave up on getting any peace.

“Very well, we’ll go now.”

“ _Thank you_ ,” Darcy said, not without sincerity. She was so on edge that she pulled him down, taking his lips between hers and losing herself in his taste. Even when she took him by surprise, he was always quick to respond and pull her to him. She’d probably feel that kiss until night time, but she didn’t care; she needed the mood fix. Darcy pulled back before he could come to his senses and push her away, but his hand on her waist stopped her from retreating. It made her throat constrict with memories.

“There. For luck,” she explained. Her hands rested on his lapels.

“Your luck, I assume?”

“Yeah. It’s an earth-thing.”

“Then I’d better get one for myself.” He pulled her into his arms.

_His_ kiss burned itself into her mind, rich with implied promises and frustrating in its restraint. All she wanted to do now was to push him back towards the couch. She resigned herself to being slightly distracted for the rest of the day. Yet between retaining her peace of mind and holding him again (when he’s not being an ass), there was no contest.

‘-

Loki and Darcy arrived right in front of the elevator of the meeting floor.

Almost everyone else had already arrived when they entered the meeting room. Nick Fury commanded one end of the table, pinning her down with the force of his glare. She froze for two seconds. Surprisingly, the other end was occupied by Pepper instead of Tony. Said billionaire sat to his fiancée’s right, the fire engine red of his Ironman-themed tie visible from a distance. Pepper had stood up and pulled the empty seat to her left for Darcy with a welcoming smile. The seat next to _that_ was occupied by the Black Widow. Darcy took it with thanks. The Director’s stern look was pretty scary that she didn’t notice Captain America to his left and Coulson to his right until she had sat down.

Loki was a lot less fortunate because the other available empty seat was between Bruce and Thor, because apparently the one next to Natasha was reserved for Clint—and the Black Widow seemed like she would gladly smack down any challenger over said reservation. A dark-haired SHIELD agent Darcy didn’t recognise took her seat next to Coulson, covering the other side of Barton's seat.

It wasn’t as if Loki could complain about the seating arrangements—he _had_ chosen to be fashionably late. Tony raised his eyebrows at the suit she was wearing, the right corner of his lips curling. She pretended she didn’t know what he was asking.

Clint Barton arrived last with a pronounced stiffness in his left step. Steve Rogers didn’t hide his concern. Natasha pulled his chair out before Hawkeye could reach for it himself. He gave her a thankful nod. The meeting began as Pepper Potts cleared her throat and spoke.

Darcy missed the way Natasha and Clint took more than a few seconds to note Loki’s outfit, as well as Natasha’s speculative glance following that in the brunette’s direction.

‘-

“…so our main concern is deciding the general policy for our current high profile, unexpected captive.” Pepper finished.

Loki gave an ironic wave to everyone else.

“With all due respect to you, Ms. Potts, this is not a civilian matter,” Nick Fury stated. “Stark still owes me an explanation why Loki has to sit on this meeting at all.”

“Because we’re not talking about classified stuffs. Easily a national issue, yes, but secrets? Nope.” Tony answered easily. “Potts, the floor is yours.”

Pepper Potts smooth voice drew everyone in. “The issue is a civilian one, even when it _is_ related to law and order. Even if we did not invite him, he will be informed of the results all the same. We think that there are steps we haven’t taken, steps we still need to take when we found out that Loki was at the head of the invading Chitauri army.”

Thor spoke up. “Yet that has not been a problem. Asgard takes full responsibility for his actions and has determined punishments to fit his crime.”

“So it’s like an extradition arrangement, isn’t it? We’ve got something nasty of yours and you want it back?” Tony asked, flippant. Loki did not look like he cared or gave a damn about what anyone said. Thor was a completely different case as his face clouded over.

“It is our duty, and we fulfilled it,” he said. Loki snorted, but said nothing.

“See, that’s where we might disagree. You might think it’s over and done with, but it really isn’t,” Tony said. Darcy had to put the papers she was holding down because she was creasing them. _This is it_. Pepper took over from Tony.

“The major issue at hand is about how Loki is far from a common criminal. He arrived on earth, at the head of an invading army. He caused destruction with said army with the explicit intent of conquest. His purpose is war,” she said.

“That has never been in doubt,” Fury asserted. “This is all old news. Why are you wasting our time, Stark?”

Tony grinned. “We’ll let our political consultant to speak for herself, shall we?  A large part of it _is_ her idea, after all.”

Pepper turned to _her_. “Darcy, go ahead.”

Everyone’s eyes tracked her movements, people whose collective power enabled them to flatten any city they were fighting in within hours. Darcy found it too easy for her to sympathise with ants under the full glare of a magnifying glass and a shiver ran through her. She desperately hoped it wasn't obvious. Darcy met Pepper's supportive glance and she managed to take a deep breath, just to ensure her voice didn’t break. _You can do this Darce. Do it slowly. You've made a list for this_. “Before we go on, there are a couple of things we’d like to clarify. First, Thor, what is Loki’s status? Is he still a prince of Asgard?”

Though she kept her gaze on the blond Asgardian, she could see Loki leaning forward at the corner of her vision. His eyes were half-lidded and it was hard to determine what the emotion on his face was, if there was any.

“ _Of course_ ,” Thor’s reply was firm and brooked no disagreements. “He is still my brother.”

“You really don’t cut your losses while you still can, do you?” Loki said with derision. His voice was cold and precise with power and was eerily more inhuman that way.

“Ironically, I found myself agreeing with him,” Darcy heard Clint mutter under his breath. Natasha was as stoic as always, but Darcy caught her sending a quick look to her fellow agent. Perhaps it was a show of support.

“And this is the opinion that the Allfather holds too? Not just you?” Darcy cut in before Thor reacted to the provocation.

“He _wouldn’t_. Not for mother.” Thor said, and he looked down for a moment. As she tried to find something to say that wouldn’t carelessly tread over the memory of their dead mother, she saw that Loki didn’t take the opportunity to send another jab—he was oddly silent on it.

“Then Loki is still a member of Asgard’s royal family, both before the attack on New York happened and after that?”

“Yes.” Thor nodded. His brother grew tense beside him, probably because he had an inkling of where she’s going. She didn’t stop, clenching her fists to pull herself together.

“A member of the royal family of Asgard attacked earth with an army, in an act of war. Asgard agrees that his action is in error and Asgard does not condone it at all—is this true?” She asked.

“Yes.”

A passing glance to the other end of the table showed that SHIELD’s director found it interesting as well.

“Just tell me when there is a mistake or misunderstanding in anything I said. Earth is not given the opportunity to bring him to trial because Asgard does not believe we have enough experience or knowledge on the limits of nonhuman powers to be able to build anything to contain him. While we concede the point, we are not given the opportunity to develop it either.”

Thor’s brows furrowed. “Why would it be of Midgard’s interest to build an intergalactic prison?”

“It is not a matter of what we will end up doing, but a question of whether we had the capability to _choose_ our path for ourselves,” Pepper clarified. She was apologetic for her interruption. Darcy shrugged with no hard feelings.

The brunette spoke up. “Asgard didn’t give us that choice.”

“Practically took it away from us,” Tony said this with more glee than necessary.

“Why don’t you just ask again about it in some, oh, _fifty years_? Maybe then you could understand the introduction page that such an explanation would require.” Loki interjected. He sounded more bored than anything. Darcy kept a small part of her attention on him at all times.

“Regardless of whether we can do anything about it at the present, any information on what it requires to contain superpowered beings would be of significant help for us to defend ourselves.” Pepper replied. Bruce Banner was nodding at her words, as was Steve Rogers.

“It would certainly help us project a reasonable timeline of catching up our technological lag compared to other worlds,” Bruce said. “It might take some time, but better than not starting at all.”

“And any improvement is a good thing if we can save more civilians in the future,” Steve Rogers said. Captain America was staring at Thor with such hope that Darcy was just glad she wasn’t the blond Asgardian. She could never say no to someone who was such a beacon of goodness. Most people seemed to agree with his general position, or at least find themselves unable to refute it outright without looking like the biggest douche bag.

Fury watched the table with the practised eye of a casino floor manager in Vegas. The female SHIELD agent next to Steve was expressionless and intimidating. A marble statue would probably emote more.

Pepper had drawn back, and Darcy took it as her cue to step forward once more. “That is what we wish to request from Asgard—knowledge on how to secure ourselves better against unknown threats from the bigger universe. The reason for this is reparation is the attempted invasion of earth by a member of Asgard’s royal family.”

Pepper was silent and Darcy knew this was something she had to say herself. She would own her idea, even if it wasn’t without risks—historically, reparations were requested by the winning side of a war to the losing one. Even if it wasn’t always directly or explicitly to the winner’s advantage, it was always to the loser’s cost. It was a request for compensation for having to go face-to-face with martial prowess another’s misguided ambition. Yet the definition of misguided was one that went to the losing side almost all the time.

“Asgard has never condoned his actions,” Thor said, his brows furrowing. 

An accepted request for reparation was a display of power—and she was about to play earth as a mouse demanding visible appreciation and an implied _apology_ to Asgard’s lion, not to mention that she had implicitly drawn attention to the tension that existed between the two worlds. Asgard could say that earth had insulted them, that even talking about the offer itself was to create a slight.

Things could easily go wrong. She cleared her throat.

“Yet it is Asgard who had failed to rein him in, and _that_ caused earth to suffer the consequences,” Darcy said, determinedly not looking in Loki’s direction. She couldn't take the chance that she'd falter or slip. “If we request minor reparations, if we ask only for the knowledge and assistance to prevent it from happening again, would Asgard turn us down?”

“We can even do that extradition thing again, if you want to.” Tony added.

“We ask this because the damage and destruction hadn’t been small.” Darcy said. “We were just lucky it wasn’t any greater, but we have no idea about what the size of the next possible attack against earth.”

Loki made a derisive chuckle and drew everyone’s attention.

“I am now curious about one thing; do nations on Midgard claim to be accountable for all the actions committed by their citizen on foreign soil? The scale and scope of that responsibility would soon border on the absurd.”

“But this act against New York had not been performed by a random citizen,” Darcy said. She met his eyes across the table without any hesitation, staunchly ignoring how her nerves were acting up. “Which is what your question implies. This act was done by someone who is second in line to the throne of Asgard. We have also just confirmed is that this is still true. We are not asking for much, especially when seen in the light of the technological prowess of Asgard. I hope what I say next isn’t true, but if Asgard dismisses our claim just because we are still a young and developing world…”

Darcy’s voice dropped slightly towards the end of her sentence.

“…then it would imply that a whole world is of less importance than even a wayward prince.”

She could see Loki tensing and just hoped her wordless look of apology made it across. As much as she didn’t want to put Thor or Loki in an uncomfortable position, she could not but think of earth first. If she had to point out what most people in civil positions would think of Loki and of Asgard had they known about his role in the New York attack, so be it.

Not that it was an easy position to take.

It was actually a little scary to see Loki nod to acknowledge her point. At the same time he did not hide the open calculation in his gaze. In a way, it was thrilling; a small part of her had itched to see what Asgard’s court was like just from his oblique references to it. It would’ve been an achievement if he could admit she can survive there.

Next to him, Thor was visibly conflicted and far more straightforward to read.

“That is _not true_ , Lady Darcy. I swear Asgard respects Midgard’s sovereignty.”

“I’m sure Asgard does, Thor,” Darcy placated. “But the losses we’ve suffered since New York isn’t magically going to go away any time even with that. It’s still there. Family members are still dead and places are still destroyed—we live with this. The risk we face from the wider universe that this can happen again is also real. Asgard can’t protect everyone, all the time. It would be unfair to ask that of Asgard too.”

Thor disagreed. “It is not an issue, Lady Darcy. It has always been our solemn duty.”

“Oh _good grief_. Could your bumbling be more obvious?” Loki cut in. He shifted in a fluid, boneless way that was way too distracting for Darcy’s peace of mind. She was probably screwed in the head if her libido could rise in lockstep with her fight or flight instinct. The smooth velvet roll of Loki's voice certainly does _not_ help.

“Go ahead, Thor. Give them everything they ask for because you don’t want to alienate your ‘friends’.  Gift them their own actual, working _Bifrost_. It would make for an unparalleled, priceless dowry, don’t you think? The Lady Jane would be _ecstatic_.” Loki stated.

Bruce followed his curiosity and leaned forward. “You’d give us knowledge on the Bifrost?”

All the SHIELD agents had been paying utmost attention too and some were outright calculating.

“That is beyond my means,” Thor said, sighing. His attention was fixed on Loki. “You _know_ that we cannot irresponsibly gift other worlds the ability to wreck havoc all across the Nine Realms without ensuring that they have advanced themselves sufficiently and proved themselves to be of noble character.”

“Really? From the way you seem to _love_ this place, I thought those restrictions wouldn’t matter. You’ve always done what you wanted, haven’t you?” Loki asked, his tone subtly mocking. Thor tensed.

“Does none of the trials I’ve undertaken told you enough of my determination to change?”

“ _Still_ you insist on thinking on such a minuscule scale. Please, _do_ continue. I’ve only noticed how entertaining you are to watch when I no longer have to be responsible for your ‘damage control’.” Loki made air quotes with his fingers; she saw Tony snorting in involuntary amusement before he checked himself. Thor’s face was starting to gain an unhealthy shade of red.

“Please, this doesn’t have to be decided now,” Pepper said, breaking the mounting tension between the brothers. “We understand that you might need more time to think and consult with the Allfather on this issue, Thor, but if you would like to receive a copy of our proposal to read, we have it on hand.”

“We would like to offer additions and modifications first to the proposal,” the SHIELD agent next to Steve spoke up for the first time.

“SHIELD’s expertise on this is very much appreciated,” Pepper said smoothly. Darcy was glad the CEO had stepped in because she was still trying to stay ahead of all the turns in the conversation. “Because I am sure it’s not as detailed as it could possibly be on what sort of threats we need to construct better defences for. Tony mainly contributed on basic engineering issues that may have magical improvements possible for it, based on feedback given by Dr. Strange. The issues chosen are those whose solutions can yield the most improvement for earth currently given the choices we’ve made for our technology tree.”

“SHIELD would not advice being too specific on the report, because the information may prove to be a security risk. We would like to review those details before the proposal is given to a representative of Asgard” the agent said. Tony frowned.

“Oh _come on_ , you guys can’t be that paranoid about current generation steam-powered engines, are you? It’s generally stuff on that level.”

“We will send the corrected proposal within a week,” she replied.

The agent’s nonplussed expression said it all. Tony received no support from Pepper.

“Well, why not?” The redhead asked. He settled for grumbling.

“Thank you, Agent Hill,” the Director said, nodding to the woman. His voice struck the room like the crack of a whip. Everyone gave him their attention whether they meant to or not.

“As enlightening as this meeting has been, I don’t appreciate the run around you tried to pull, _Stark_. The next time you want a meeting like this, go through the proper channels or SI will find out whether it has filed all its expenses properly with the IRS last year.”

Darcy leaned away warily, noticing the statement for the threat it was. Pepper frowned, but her expression smoothed away within a second. Of course, Tony wasn’t going to take that sitting down.

“Sheesh, don’t get your panties in a twist, Nicky. What did you lose, anyway? Nothing.”

Steve Rogers sighed. “Tony, _please_.”

“I wasn’t in the wrong,” Tony insisted. “We had the plan well in hand.”

“You would have had more heads to work on it if you had contacted us sooner, Mr. Stark, more angles to see and work with,” Agent Hill said, far more freezing in look than the Hollywood publicist of a scandal-ridden actor. “We are not without a division of our own tasked to liaise with DC.”

Darcy tried not to bristle when she could feel the agent’s eyes assessing her and finding her wanting. She met Agent Hill’s eyes head on and half-hoping she would actually say something so Darcy had an excuse to lash back.

Tony clasped his hands together on the table.

“And your focus would be to keep it secret and hush-hush. This is where I disagree. If we’re going to try to represent earth in negotiating with Asgard, we might as well get input from other countries.”

“That’s a good idea,” Steve said.

“We’ll also keep in touch with, y’know, other government entities. Because I’m pretty sure SHIELD isn’t the diplomatic arm of good ole US of A,” Tony finished.

“Mr. Stark—” Agent Hill began.

“We will continue this discussion _later_ ,” the Director interrupted, warning Tony. Darcy could see the agent clamming up immediately, eyes flickering in Loki’s direction for a split-second. Tony grinned.

“Really? I can say _all_ I want to say right here and now, why can’t you? However, since I’m _such_ a _nice_ guy, I’ll understand if you’re having stage fright right now and want to arrange something else at a different time.”

“Tony,” this time it was Pepper who said it, with a remarkable degree of patience. Tony’s smile was still as wide, but he there were no more words from him. The CEO of Stark Industries turned her attention to the whole room.

The meeting went on for some time after that, but it concerned the technical details of the proposal more now after the initial idea was brought forth. Pepper mediated all of it with aplomb and a cool head. Darcy mostly stayed out of the way for those because she certainly wasn’t one of the engineers or nuclear scientists on the table, or the national security experts like the SHIELD agents. She did give her two cents in once in a while when she felt that people were underestimating or misunderstanding the possible reactions of other world citizens and governments to some of the alternatives offered.

Pepper closed the meeting after it seemed that the arguments were repeatedly going over the same issues while no one had any clear information to support any side.

“We now have a clear plan of action to execute and it is clear who is responsible for it at the current stage. Darcy Lewis will send a copy of the proposal for SHIELD as well as all members of the Avengers Initiative. We will be waiting for the correction from SHIELD to come in, and we welcome others to contribute their input too.” Pepper said this in the direction of Dr. Banner.

Darcy was saved from the embarrassing task of begging superheroes for their emails as she saw Pepper’s message on her phone. She glanced down to her phone. Inside were all the email addresses she’d need. _When did she send this?_ Maybe it was just a few minutes after she’d arrived, or sometime when the talks were underway. Either way, Pepper’s efficiency was a lifesaver.

Soon enough she found herself staring at Loki at the other side of the table. He stared back at her, unblinking and uncomfortably devoid of emotions. Yet no matter how odd it was couldn’t bring herself to look away. Something waited at the edge of her perception and she kept trying to grasp its minute details in the particular tilt of his chin or the set of his shoulders. It wasn’t _exactly_ melancholy but there was something about it that spoke of remembrance and thoughts, of memories recalled from salad days. _But what is it?_

The spell was broken once she noticed that half the room had filed out and she was no closer to the answer than before.

‘-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because the Avengers might gel together enough for them to work together like a well-oiled machine, but there's no doubt that the members have different ideal and philosophies (and it shows outside their field duties).


	19. XIX. Many Meetings, Part 2 (Crossroads of All Kinds)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (The summary placed at the beginning of the previous chapter applies to this chapter [XIX] as well as the previous [Chapter XVIII]).

### XIX. Many Meetings, Part 2 (Crossroads of All Kinds)

It shouldn’t be that hard to follow Loki, not when he was juggling that toy ball again and Darcy could see it rise and fall above people’s heads in the air. Her effort was unconsciously foiled by Thor, who found her right after the meeting was done and asked her what wrong he had wrought on her that she would question his honour. Darcy sighed and tried to come up with an answer. She did this while straining to occasionally tiptoe, but even that thrown ball was not visible anymore among the crowds.

She chalked her efforts as a lost cause and turned to the blond Asgardian brother—she wasn’t that cruel to turn away from Thor. It took some effort for her to explain that yes, she did trust him, _really_ , but the proposal she brought forward in the meeting was more than either of them. A nation might be represented by an individual, but it certainly isn’t _just_ them. Besides, who knows about all the policy details of their country? Nobody. So it was sort of her civic duty to bring the idea up for earth if it seemed that no one had been considering the issue from that angle yet.

That appeased Thor but didn’t erase the worry from his face. He looked thoughtful, even weighed with sadness, and Darcy felt a little uncomfortable about it.

“What’s wrong?” She asked.

“I am not good at these long talks,” Thor said.

Darcy shook her head and patted his hand. “Your heart is in the right place, it’s fine. Nobody got really good the first time they tried new stuff, right? So don’t worry, big guy. As long as you keep learning and practisin’, you’d get better. Just don’t give up. Heck, _I’m_ still new at this as well.”

“I worry about the decades that would need to pass before I am capable.”

She shrugged. “Well, that wouldn’t really be a worry for you, will it? You’ve got all the time in the world.”

He was quite for a moment. “Centuries ago, these conversations have always fallen under the aegis of Loki’s responsibility. It is so easy to lose myself in that time again, especially when he is sitting right beside me. Yet once I hear him speak there is nothing but vitriol and I am left to stand alone. It has been…hard.”

She sighed. “Yeah, I could see _that_ alright.”

“I have not realised how complicated his task was until it fell to me.”

Darcy nodded with sympathy. _Of course_ Loki had been the diplomat of the two of them. It made too much sense. “Oh, I _totally_ feel for you. We all have those moments, you know?”

“But what else did he want from me? I have apologised and he would not hear it, and _still_ he sowed more chaos.”

“Not sure.” Darcy said. Well, she might have her own suspicions, but she didn’t feel she had a right to air them when they were just speculations. “But I think I know what you need to do to move forward.”

“What is it, Lady Darcy?”

“The truth,” she said simply. He looked puzzled.

“You said that he _still_ sowed chaos even now, but on what basis do you say that?”

“He was caught trying to steal an ancient chalice of Midgard—”

She waved it away with impatience. “Oh, yeah, I heard about that part too. But why? For what? Nobody seems to be investigating into it—they’re just disappointed that he’s not one of the guys screwing Denver. Do you or anyone else actually have an answer to those questions?”

Thor nodded. “I understand. I must speak to him, then—”

Darcy grabbed his arm and Thor stopped his motion. She was glad that he did, because otherwise she’d be dragged along in his wake like a hilarious barnacle.

“No, _nononono_. You _can’t_ speak to him. Well, you can, but he’d just stonewall you like he did all this time, because he still doesn’t want to tell you. No, it’s not a good way to get answers, Thor. If you want to know, then you’d just have to do your own snooping around, geddit?”

He frowned with distaste. “It will be as if I do not trust his words that I have to ask others.”

“You already don’t trust him,” she said bluntly. “He knows that too well and it hurts him even if he won’t admit it.” Still, she cringed anyway when she saw his pained expression as he found he could not deny her words, the truth cutting him deeper than even the better Einherjar of Asgard could. _Damn_. She can’t bear to see him sad.

“Thus I still fail as a brother.”

“ _No_. It’s not like that, Thor. It’s…” she shook her head, walking back and forth in agitation as she wrung her hands together. How could she say it? How could she describe the abyss that had grown between them that almost everyone else had noticed but _Thor_?

“It’s like…look, I won’t even recommend you to trust me without enough proof, okay? Even Jane has given you a lot of proofs that she loved you and cared about you. She’s always there for you when it counts, even when she has to put science back sometimes—and that’s a _lot_ of sacrifice for her, and yet you can see that she didn’t mind it. That’s her proof. I have never spoken of all these weird stuff about you or any other Avengers to the media, even when I can probably make them untraceable to SHIELD, because I don’t want to bring that sort of crap to my friends. Actions speak louder than words, see?”

She waited, willing for Thor to understand. He seemed perplexed but he nodded all the same.

“Loki right now is harder to read because you’ve both been close once, and yet there’s no trust left anymore now. You broke his, and he broke yours. You don’t even understand him now. So why should you trust him? Or why should he trust you when you ask and tell you the truth then? He doesn’t trust you either, that much is clear.”

“But I’m his brother,” Thor said.

“Yeah, and it doesn’t seem to make him happy right now, does it? So I doubt that’s going to make him trust you,” Darcy said, wincing as Thor’s expression fell.

“ _So_ , you don’t trust him. You want to, but you don’t. I think the best thing to do in this case is to find more evidence. Find out why he’s even on earth in the first place and you’d know whether you can trust him or not.”

 Thor frowned “It is not so simple, Lady Darcy.”

“Isn’t it?” She challenged him.

He did not seem to be able to take her words at face value. She cocked her head to one side.

“If you found proof that he’s minding his own business, maybe you could decide to trust him. If you find him trying to kill people, you can decide that you _can’t_ trust him. Or maybe you can tell him that you’re setting an even higher bar for him to fulfil for him if he wants to earn your trust back this time and see what happens from that point. It’s your call.”

Her voice was way too calm to be talking about this, particularly when she could feel her fist tensing until she loosened her hands. She didn’t want to think that Loki might still be playing them all in the Great Game, but she couldn’t ignore the possibility. It was still there, after all. She might be an optimist, but there _was_ a reason she studied political science.

 _Hope for the best, plan for the apocalypse_.

“If you’re proven right, your trust in him would actually grow stronger,” Darcy said, ignoring the way her voice wavered a little near the end.

Thor seems to be caught between wanting to believe her and not. She wasn’t the only one who didn’t want to think about uncomfortable realities.

“And if I’m proven wrong?”

“You will have a bunch of evidence this time—the _truth_ and not guesses or memories.” _No matter how painful_.

She felt her throat tightening up at the idea but she ignored it. Darcy took long, deep breaths. Her smile was edged with bitterness. She hoped he didn’t see it.

“So, see you around some time? I’ve got to get back to the lab. Jane’s probably going to be looking for me.” Darcy said all this quickly.

She didn’t wait until he finished his sentence before she turned around and left.

‘-

Natasha had gone all mother hen on Clint because of his injury and had dragged him away for another medical check before the archer could try to convince anyone that he was fine—not that anyone was buying it. Tony didn’t know why the man was being so stoic about it—if it was him, he’d milk it for all his worth. This was doubly true since he’d seen the odd closeness between the archer and the spy. The opportunity to get closer was practically served to him on a golden platter!

Seriously, did he have to teach the Avengers everything about normal life?

This was why Tony was in the elevator with Bruce and Steve other than Pepper. It wasn’t a surprise in Bruce’s case because their labs were on the same floor. Steve, though? He thought the embarrassingly wholesome All-American Hero was going to debrief with Fury or Coulson, or something.

“Fancy seeing you going this way, Boy Scout,” Tony said.

Steve Rogers, bless his congenital niceness, was unoffended and smiled. “I was going to the library.”

“Which one?”

“The one on the 42nd floor?” Now, he was slight confused. “Are there any other library?”

“There’s the one on the 71st floor,” Pepper helpfully replied.

“Depends on what you’re looking for,” Tony said.

“But if you don’t find what you’re looking for in that library, it might help to try out a new place.” Bruce added. Tony couldn’t hold back the urge to roll his eyes. What was it about Cap that had everyone tripping over themselves to help him? He could almost feel Pepper’s careful look in his direction as she mouthed ‘be nice’ to him. What? He _was_ nice. He didn’t even question why Rogers was going to the library.

“You need a higher level clearance to enter, but I’m sure you can manage it with your ID card,” Pepper said. Bruce went ahead and pressed the button for the floor before they passed it.

“Most of it is technical stuff, though,” Tony said. Now it was Bruce who was giving him an amused look. _What?_ He _was_ being helpful.

“Maybe I’ll try it sometime if I can’t find the blueprint I need.”

“Blueprint?”

“I’m trying to give life to an old Harley. I’m not sure if know how exactly the engine’s supposed to look like before.”

 _Ah_ , Tony nodded in understanding. He had more than one vintage car that began as scraps and forgotten hunks of metal in some garage as an unexpected legacy. “Yeah, might’ve been a lot of pain at the beginning, but the result is worth it.”

“Oh, I have no doubt that it will.” He sounded so sure about it, as if his opinion wouldn’t change even if people were to laugh in his face about it. Tony had to admire that sort of determination.

“Good luck with that, then.”

“Thanks.”

Pepper was watching their interaction with interest. “You know, there’s actually a coffee shop in that library too and it’s pretty good. We could sit down for coffee for a while.”

Tony had quickly realised that it was suggestion for him to say ‘yes’. Why she invited Bruce and Steve was beyond him, but he wasn’t going to second guess her.

“That’s not a bad idea,” Bruce acknowledged.

“I’d be happy to,” said Steve.

‘-

Tony was _really_ not surprised when Pepper ushered them into their off-corner booth, the one with who-knows-what spell written on its walls and floor. Since he had overseen the design and modifications, he knew that even more was hidden underneath the table and seats. Bruce was taking all the details with interest. After a little back-and-forth with Tony informing them that the booths weren’t exactly public and how all the magical and non-magical security measures were useful and at times necessary, he could see a shrewder look dawning on Bruce’s face and a thoughtful one on Steve’s.

“So…” Bruce began, trailing away.

“I thought it would be nice for you guys to know that this place exists. You know, for privacy reasons,” Tony answered as he drank his coffee. He ignored the nonplussed look his friend sent.

“Well, I wanted to make sure that I wasn’t the only one who saw that at the meeting,” Pepper said, smoothly drawing everyone’s attention away.

“Noticed what?” Bruce asked.

“That Loki wasn’t being an asshat?” Tony said. Steve was frowning.

“Yet he still made things difficult for Thor.”

Tony didn’t blame Steve his confusion—he’d noticed it first because he saw the almost-frown on Pepper’s face at certain points during the meeting and he paid more attention to what was going whenever she did that. What little conversation they had while waiting for the elevator and just before Bruce and Steve came along had provided additional insight.

“He was being a jerkass, which isn’t exactly the same as being an asshat.”

Bruce raised his eyebrows. “Seriously, Tony?”

“Most of the instances when he underestimated Thor’s judgment only resulted in gains to Asgard,” Pepper answered before Tony trolled them too far. Steve shook his head.

“I don’t understand.”

“If Thor actually gave us the Bifrost, who would benefit?” Tony asked.

“Earth,” Bruce replied quickly. Understanding dawned over Steve.

“Yeah, and he just made sure Thor wouldn’t do that.” He said again.

“But isn’t it just a coincidence? Their rivalry before now is well-documented.”

“We also had one example of him going all cuckoo about taking over the world. But did we see any signs of that today?” Tony asked. “Any unwarranted maniacal laughter? Statements about how ants will meet their destined boots? How all of this is _beneath him_?”

“Not really…”

“So where’s the nutjob that we all faced in New York?”

Steve spoke up again. “Maybe he had many things on his mind as a prisoner?”

Tony snorted. “If you’ve seen how he walks like he owns the place in the labs, thoughtful or depressed is the last word to use to describe him.”

He saw the doubts growing on the faces of the other Avengers face and Tony took that opportunity.

“I’m not saying that we trust him. I’m just saying that it feels like there’s something deeper here that we have no idea about. I don’t know what he’s doing but I know he’s pushing all of Thor’s buttons on purpose—I wouldn’t have noticed it either if I didn’t see Pepper taking note of it all the time.”

“I think we don’t have nearly enough information about Asgard to know whether our guess is accurate or completely off-base,” Pepper said. “And I don’t think that’s a good thing.”

‘-

Bruce Banner was only too glad to return to his lab and back into his research instead of the obfuscating and complicated world that is inter-agency cooperation (and politics—he shouldn’t forget politics, not after the possibilities of moves and counter-moves Pepper put forward that only brought more headache). The meeting that Pepper had chaired was going to give him more grey hairs than not. There were times that he did miss being a simple lecturer instead of a member of the Avengers.

His cell phone rang and Bruce scrambled from his seat. After several false starts and running from one end of the lab to another, he found it on his third try. _Then again, a simple lecturer wouldn’t have a lab this big for myself_ , he mused.

“Hello?”

A familiar co-worker’s voice greeted him from the other side. Bruce nodded.

“Yeah, I’ve copied the dataset we’d need. Yes, as well as every other dataset that I didn’t back up to the cloud. I learned the lesson of last month well enough—how was I supposed to know that my old grad student became a _supervillain_? Or that he wouldn’t even copy the old research data for me?”

He wasn’t completely joking with the last question—was it so hard to expect a little scientific integrity? He did understand now how naïve he’d been then. His friend certainly didn’t waste the opportunity let loose a stream of invectives to that particular ex-student and he was patient enough to let his colleague vent before trying some distraction.

“I know, I know. I was expecting too much.” Bruce massaged his forehead.

“Anyway, how’s Betty progressing? Still no clues as to what shut down the hepatic fructolysis pathway?” A long and tired sigh followed. “Cut in half the candidate exoproteins responsible, eh? Let’s hope we can gain something more from my dataset, then. I really don’t envy the doctors—at least we only get to see the cell samples and not the miserable patients.”

He could imagine himself being a paediatrician even less. There was a ten-year-old girl who wandered out to his labs in Denver by accident and seeing the way her eyes light up in wonder on her pale and thin form broke his heart. The lines of his face stood out starkly for a moment and he wasn’t as youthful as he usually looked. He leaned back on his desk as he gazed out to the overcast skyline of New York, as grave as an old sailor weighing approaching storm clouds. He knew why Betty had forgotten to call him and he had no hard feelings about it—she headed one of the labs-slash-research-team that he was attached to in Denver and she’d probably had her hands full even now.

“Thanks for calling and please give my regards to Betty—what? When? I’d be there by next week, probably? Why?”

He stood up and wandered to the window, glancing skyward occasionally. “Yeah, there’s a bit of a light snow here.”

 The urgency in his colleague’s voice surprised him. _Get on the first government plane you can find tomorrow—wait, belay that. Get on the first SHIELD plane into Denver tomorrow; I’m sure Natasha would help you with it. Just get your ass here before we’re all locked in and_ you’re _locked out_.

He frowned. “What’s the sudden rush?”

There was a huff from the other side, but there was no impatience at the question. _Did you keep up with Lisa Chen’s unit? The weather people?_

He shook his head. “Well, I heard about the possible polar vortex forming and I thought all this early snow was that.”

 _If it was just the damned polar vortex, it shouldn’t actually arrive this quickly—maybe next month or so. There’ve been unexpected record lows east of here, Bruce. We’re looking at a possible storm within a_ week.

“ _What?_ ” He yelped.

_Yeah, she wasn’t kidding. A storm cell—_

Bruce rushed around the room. He was sure he left his luggage here instead of at his apartment. “I’m getting on that plane _today_. Thanks for the update, Barbara.”

He closed his cell phone with a click, too concerned with getting back to Betty’s side and completely missing the complaints on the Colorado side of the call about how the other biochemist preferred _not_ to be called Barbara, thank you.

‘-

An unexpected message came through on Darcy’s phone. _Tory?_ It was weird because between the way they lagged in correspondence, it was more informative for everyone involved (read: mostly Mom) that they exchanged emails than messages that were sometimes abandoned halfway or questions either forgot to answer.

Yeah, so they were both a little scatterbrained. So what?

 _HisTory_ : _What’s happening in Colorado, Darce? More than a few people that I know confirmed that the people in the airbases around there are suddenly being tight-lipped. Gag orders, much? I’m not even looking for any operational details. I just want to know what the hell is going on? It’s not just an epidemic, is it?_

Darcy stared at her phone uncertainly before typing back.

_D_Regina: Dunno, why are you asking me?_

_HisTory: Because scuttlebutt says that a lot of supplies are shipped there with the SI logo, and not merely medicine either. I’ve got a friend who paled when they heard what was getting shipped. What is_ up _, Slugger?_

She sighed. Darcy heard about all those unrecognisable plants and creatures sighted there, especially when Tony was trying to get Bruce to tell him about what he saw. She saw all those requisition papers Bruce only half-filled before she volunteered _nicely_ and _helpfully_ to complete and file it for him. He handed it over to her with a relieved sigh with no other questions asked and Darcy was home free to read it back-to-back while doing it. She wasn’t even that familiar with all the bits and bobs of life sciences, but she could certainly read the size of his orders.

He could probably outfit several labs with what he ordered. Knowing just how common the reports on the strange plants and critters were, she put two and two together and concluded that they really did exist and somebody made them for a purpose. Plus, Bruce Banner has a doctorate in biochemistry.

Darcy was a political science major, not _stupid_. An _epidemic_ , they say. An unknown disease outbreak. That’s the only thing on the media, isn’t it? Of course, _no one_ wants the mass panic that would come with stating that there’s been a _bioweapon attack_.

_D_Regina: If you’re suddenly in active duty again, promise me you’ll pick a posting to the Middle East first before Colorado. You could pass this on to any of your friends._

_HisTory: You know I’m not on active duty, right? Darce? What’s wrong? Come on, you’re scaring me now…_

_D_Regina: I don’t know anything more than scuttlebutt either Tory, but I do know it’s one heck of a pile-up. Look, you know where I work, right? The street address too? Look it up. Maybe you’d get better clues_.

It wasn’t as if it was hard to figure out that Stark Industries New York, Research and Development, particularly those that are on Stark Tower, has a large chance of being connected to SHIELD too. As long as you’ve got the time to diligently comb through the internet, it was doable.

_HisTory: Shit, you’re under gag orders too? It’s pretty bad, isn’t it?_

_D_Regina: I forgot the specifics of my contract, but I bet it’s in there somewhere. Yeah, pretty bad is an understatement, Tory._

‘-

It was already several hours beyond lunch time. Tony wouldn’t have realised it at all if he hadn’t seen Pepper at the edge of the machine pit in his lab, watching him with an amused smile on her face. He glanced at his watch and received confirmation of the hour through his growling stomach. His jacket and tie might have been discarded but he was still in his suit trousers and shirt; this was mostly because he was debugging software instead of working with hardware. He waved and she made her way down.

“See something you like, Potts?”

“There’s a certain elegance in the classic lines of the Mark II,” she cocked her head in the direction of the displayed suit, giving it a sultry evaluating look. Tony was undeterred.

“Oh, I _know_. No one else could make a beauty like that but me.”

She smiled. “Including the time it experienced rocket failure?”

“Just working the kinks out of the prototype,” he said, easily. “Not that I’m not happy to have you here, but I thought you wanted to drop in on finance this afternoon?”

Tony might not give a damn about keeping any semblance of a schedule, which explained why not many of his PAs actually stayed on for long before he drove them nuts, but he had no difficulty keeping track of Pepper’s.

“I moved it,” she said. “Seeing that I’d probably be out for several days, if not a whole week already, I thought I might as well have lunch with you.”

She looked apologetic. Tony was chuffed—he knew exactly why. They had a minor squabble over it two days ago because she had to pull off some pretty major coast-to-coast coordination for weeks. Apparently, the issue wasn’t settled yet.

“I don’t see any reason why you need to work so closely with them. The only meeting I had was right before each quarter’s report. I managed with a daily update and weekly reports just _fine_.”

It was bad enough that he couldn’t see her that often when the Avengers had some emergency in some far corner of the world, it would be even worse now if she was gearing up to be a hyper-CEO.

“If you saw the articles I sent you—”

“Psssht, why Harvard Business Review, Potts? Why not something from the MIT Press?”

Pepper rolled her eyes. “Because they have the articles and industry research I _need_ and they’re interesting to read. Your last complaints about the papers I sent you were that they were _boring_. Now, I’m giving you high quality articles from a publication whose editorial and infographics team is on par with major magazines. I assure you, the diagrams are in full colour.”

She gave him a knowing look. _Damn_. She really did remember all his excuses, didn’t she? And she did something about them too when his actual reason had been laziness, most of the time. He could run the business side of SI competently enough; he just didn’t like them as well as the engineering aspect.

“I don’t believe there’s anything they could do that we can’t do better. Not. Reading. Harvard’s.”

She folded her arms in front of her. Tony was undeterred as he raised his fists and gave a spirited support to his almamater.

“Go MIT!”

“I believe MIT’s business school is actually called _Sloan_ , Tony,” she said dryly.

“Well, go Sloan!”

She’d probably seen more than her fair share of his irrational behaviour and fits of craziness (or as he called it, creativity). “Tony, you neither run Sloan, nor are you an alumnus and _I’m sure you’ve read the articles the moment I sent them_. Look, you _know_ why I’m doing this.”

She wanted to sell one of SI’s strategic business units (SBUs). He shoved his hands in his pockets.

“I won’t agree to a downsizing, Potts.”

Oddly enough, Pepper relaxed by a fraction.

“It’s not; it’s a _spin-off_ ,” she corrected. “No one’s being laid off unless the owners of the new company decides to shut it down themselves—and that’s hardly the rational choice with its stellar market position and reputation for excellence. They’d probably be _expanding_ , if anything, trying to reach more markets. We’re not even talking about the business unit that handles the telemetry technology itself—which I agree is a security issue for your suits. This is just the one that makes the mapping software for the data.”

She sighed. “The software is also general use one for PCs, and maybe tablets and smartphones too now, if they wanted to grow.”

“But it’s more convenient to keep it in-house!” Tony insisted.

Pepper opened her mouth, and said nothing, just a soft exhale of breath and she looked away. It set off a vague warning at the back of Tony’s head. There was something more about this that he missed.

“I won’t argue with that. But its benefits are more than its costs. A little inconvenience is nothing.”

“What benefits? It’s not even a major unit. Pretty sizeable, yeah, but nothing most people notice from SI. There isn’t even anything _wrong_ with it and I’d _know_. I still drop in at their engineers’ office often enough to check their code and give input.” If it was possible, she looked even more worried after he said that. He knew better now to note that the way she straightened herself with her professional poise perfectly in place; it actually meant there was something she was trying to contain.

“Pepper, what is it?”

“That’s exactly the problem, Tony,” she said softly. “It’s great that you always know what everyone else is doing, but you can’t do it forever.”

She said it too softly. He hoped she wasn’t trying to coddle him, because he sucked at being coddled. He was much better at breaking things and fixing them later.

And yes, he realised it was more than a bit messed up to talk about himself the same way. He was just telling it like it is.

“What do you mean ‘I can’t do it forever’?”

She found one of the stools strewn throughout the lab, sitting down with a weary breath and raised both of her hands to cover her face. Tony grabbed her left hand to hold. Pepper’s fingers were deceptively small and delicate, providing no clues of the steel core he knew was inside her. An irrational fear of losing her from his grasp gnawed in his chest.

“Pep, please, talk to me. I won’t know what I screwed up if you don’t say it.”

Her smile to him was weak. “You didn’t screw up, Tony. I’ve never seen you as dedicated as you’ve been lately. You were wonderful.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“You’re _too_ wonderful,” she muttered. He gaped.

“Wait, _what?!_ ”

Pepper carefully traced the skin at the edge of his arc reactor, where the skin was oddly sensitive. He was torn between asking her to stop and asking her to use both hands.

“You know what Dr. Rao said. The arc reactor is in an area exposed and immersed to the circulatory fluids. It’s not somewhere pretty isolated from your blood and lymph like, say, inside your bones. The longer it stays there, the higher the odds that it might trigger an adverse over-reaction from your immune system. It’s neighbours to many major organs there.”

Tony held her hand tighter. He knew where she was going.

“We’d never have the time to grow a bone shell to encase it, reducing contact between the immune system and the arc reactor if you were always running away _every five seconds_. You do it when any firm in SI is currently cooking an interesting project, when the Avengers have a mission or _ten_ running, or when you decide we should get into a high-stakes blackjack with SHIELD and _Asgard_.”

“Poker,” Tony corrected. “Because you’d have to be able to bluff, read tells and counter-bluff. Blackjack isn’t that hard if know how to count cards. Back in MIT, the math dept did that for pocket money and I join them for fun sometimes.”

She made a sound somewhere between a huff and a chuckle and he counted himself lucky that she’d relaxed enough around him to allow him to see this, instead of the intimidating, super efficient Pepper Potts.

“Both are just as hard for most people, Tony. My point is that you haven’t been taking enough rest.”

“So you decided to _sell_ a part of Stark Industries?” He asked, almost affronted. She glared at him.

“It’s _spin-off_! You’ve been spending half you free time last month fiddling with their mapping software when it’s not necessary for you to do that at all! This would take it off your hands.”

Her eyes flashed and there was an unyielding edge to the usually soft-spoken CEO. She dared him to disprove her. He…well, he didn’t have any defence against that, really, because she wasn’t wrong.

“If I had wanted to take Stark Industries apart, I’d have gone at the biomedical research and technology companies,” she pointed out. “Because once they’re out, SI would just be a third-tier holding company. I could draw a good enough proposal to hit the sweet spot for return on investment, especially if pharmaceutical giants looking to expand like Pfizer and Merck are looking to buy the firms we’re selling.”

There was something frighteningly competent in the way Pepper spoke of dismantling Stark Industries piece by piece. For the most part, her words rose and fell with the inevitability of the timeless wind. “Pfizer’s edge in immunology research in particular would’ve been boosted by leaps and bounds with our R&D and could easily muscle everyone else out into the fringes. The next ten years will easily see four to six Noble Prize winners in medicine from their labs if that happened. Merck would be interested in our experimental vaccines—and I’m only talking about what I can come up with at the top of my head! A serious proposal could easily garner the interest of the big pharmaceuticals companies. With the sort of profit numbers it would bring, most of the other shareholders will say ‘ _yes_ ’ to the plan.”

Her gaze held him down with the grace and ease of a leopard pinning him to the jungle floor. Pepper lowered her voice, her dulcet tones and well-reasoned numbers as dangerous as a set of canines to his jugular. Not that he’d mind if she did set her canines near his neck with a riding crop at hand and maybe in a leather corset…

…wait, where was he again?

“It wouldn’t matter even if you voted ‘no’ with your shares—you do realise you own less than 51% of SI now, don’t you? I could pull it off even after I tell you about this.”

He shivered and tried to shake the feeling off. He was sure Howard Stark would be rolling in his grave too if he had heard her speak. Tony didn’t doubt her ability to pull it off.

“Damn, Potts, you’re pretty scary when you want to.”

Actually, Tony was more turned on than scared.

“I know,” Pepper said, holding his hands tighter and closing her eyes. The distant and cool CEO melted away with the first bloom of her smile. Unexpectedly, it was not a happy one.

The palm of her hand rested on his arc reactor. “But it’s not as scary as imagining that one day, your body might decide on their own that they don’t want this stranger in the middle of your chest anymore and started to gear up for a civil war. There are too many possibilities, too many varieties of auto-immune reactions from the lightest to the worse…”

She leaned her head over his shoulder and he pulled an arm around her, unable to avoid the guilt that bled into him from her warmth.

“If I said I wouldn’t tweak the mapping software so much anymore, would you reconsider not selling the SBU?” Tony asked.

“Promise me you’ll rest when I drag you on the bed.”

“Aww, come on, you know that I _can’t_ rest when you do that,” he replied, complete with a leer. She laughed and he could feel it bubble against him. His chest felt uncomfortably tight.

“Just…promise me to listen when I said you’ve gone too far and you need to take a break? And that we’re doing the bone case _this month_. No more setbacks, Tony. It’s been delayed for more than three months already.” Pepper said.

“Wait a minute, wasn’t it only from last month?” He asked.

“ _Tony…_ ”

“Sheesh, alright, alright! Time sure flies when you’re having fun.” He said with a sigh. “At least we’ve put the scaffold in place by now. I thought you’d have fewer complaints about that,” he said.

Pepper pressed her lips together and her smile was far more genuine now. “Oh, yes, I have _absolutely_ no complaints about that.”

 “Yeah, pretty convenient that we’d have a lull in Avengers’ missions…”

Pepper was _still_ smiling, and it was a dash too wide than her usual smile. Tony stared, his eyebrows rising as pieces of the puzzle began to slot together. “…or not. You asked Natasha to take me off from the duty roster, didn’t you? And here I wondered why they didn’t need more people on Denver.”

“They _didn’t_. Certainly not someone without a background in the medical and life sciences. You’re acting as if the Avengers are the only people that could be sent and that SHIELD is lacking in agents. Besides, I only asked her to give you time to read all the links Dr. Rao sent you until you made a decision on the scaffold.”

“After that?”

“I didn’t do anything. But you _did_ need to recover after the operation and she certainly wrote that down on the paperwork to keep you out of action.” Pepper said. She stood up from her seat, still with that damnable smile. He would have minded her leaving more, but she kissed him before he left. It was an actual, _proper_ kiss where she usually would’ve prioritised professionalism more and she lingered. Pepper let out a soft longing sigh when he pulled her closer, wishing to feel her fully against him. She glided her hips in one incomprehensible move against his and heat shot downwards to his groin. He lost his train of thought

Well, hot _damn_.

His fiancée gave him a short and sweet parting kiss, taking his momentary surprise to ease herself away, building distance into her board room armour once more.

“Does this mean you’re not going anywhere this week and the next?” Tony asked. His voice was a little rough around the edges. He did not care to shield himself in any way from her. She already held his heart; there was nothing else of him that she could harm worse than that if she had wished to.

“Well, I still have to call it off even if the plan doesn’t go forward.”

Her eyes shone for him with her love in her gaze and he knew instantly where she placed his heart; right next to hers.

“Do it through Skype!”

Pepper rolled her eyes but didn’t say no, letting her smile stayed undisguised when she walked out of the lab. Tony was still hopeful that she’d change her mind before the day was over.

‘-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter and I'm pausing the updates until I get Part II almost over. Plus, I think I'd try applying to grad school and all-in scholarships this month, I'd be occupied for a while (wish me luck).
> 
> In case anyone missed it from Tony, yes, there’s a _bit_ of a friendly rivalry between MIT and Harvard.
> 
>    
> More Random Stuff:
> 
>  ** _Harvard Business Review_** is as shiny as I’ve described it (the last time I could freeload reading it). Really readable, great research and lots of colourful infographics and pictures! As long as you have some interest in the business world, it’s a pretty good read. Even a bored Tony would be able to read it from end to end and be mildly interested and amused at the very least.
> 
>  ** _MIT Blackjack Team_** and other teams beside it formed from other universities do exist in real life. This is the inspiration for the movie _21_. I think Kevin Spacey’s character was supposed to be real life’s John Chang. Tony Stark the boy genius and his edge for numbers would’ve been a natural fit to counting cards and with his brashness, he’d take on the challenge of fleecing the house when he’s bored.


	20. XX. Walls, Borders and Gates (Phase Shift)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Walls fall. Borders are permeable. No boundaries last forever. The lab becomes a fulcrum. Jane has an epiphany. Loki gets a message and makes his move. A return of the Silvertongue._
> 
> _Darcy wonders how many conversations she’s actually having with Loki every time she spoke with him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is early because my schedule is currently messed up. I'd rather it not get worse.

### XX. Walls, Borders and Gates (Phase Shift)

Darcy’s last ditch hope in finding Loki was an email that she typed in a rush using her phone.

_Loki,_

_As much as I love the outfit you made, seriously, I love those sneakers that got poofed away too. They’ve been with me through college; we have a History together and not even you are going to get between us. Now, how do I get them back?_

_Darcy_

‘-

Darcy took a step into her apartment. She knew that her chances of seeing him again hit rock bottom when she saw her battered Nikes in the middle of her sitting room, sitting innocuously on the floor. It even seemed shinier than it had been in ages—something she hadn’t thought was possible.

_Shit_.

She slumped back against the door, trying not to overthink things. It was hard to conclude that he was anything else but avoiding her.

A message came in on her phone. It was from Pepper. She took a deep breath and picked herself up once more. It would seem that her work wasn’t done yet. As she picked up her stuff and prepared to go out again, one niggling question remained in her head.

_Where the hell is that dark blue scarf?_

It wasn’t the only one she had, but with it subtle shifting colours matched with its wave pattern, she often imagined herself as a mermaid with a whole ocean to explore when she felt down. She sighed. She supposed she’d have to settle for something else in the mean time.

‘-

There was a comfortable background hum of instruments and computers in the lab. Jane Foster had finished running the last set of data on the anomalies and it was still too early for lunch. She stood up from her chair and stretched.

When she sat down, Jane decided to indulge her curiosity a little.

She accessed Stanford Solar Center and downloaded their recent data to read. Half an hour after that, she logged in into Stark Industries’s intranet, making the most use out of her clearance. It’s not exactly a SHIELD clearance, but the number of joint research projects worked on between SI and SHIELD meant that she had good odds of finding out SHIELD’s business even from this side.

Abe had been right—not that she actually doubted him, but it never hurts to check—the sun hadn’t shown anything out of the ordinary in the last few weeks. So what triggerred the aurora, then?

Most of the research projects that come up were hardly relevant, and yet there was _nothing_ on the SHIELD side but a few small cases. It didn’t make sense. She expected that there would be just as many cases as there were SI-SHIELD research projects, regardless of whether they were actually what she was looking for or not.

_Unless SHIELD generates far less paperwork than SI_. She snorted— _as if._ Pigs would sooner fly. Beyond a certain size, all organisations generate paperwork. It was as unavoidable as death and taxes.

_Or maybe the clearance codes are a lot more sophisticated than you think, so most SHIELD files are_ still _beyond your clearance_.

Jane groaned. This wasn’t what she’d call easy. “Darcy?”

“Yep?”

“Could you help me search something on the intranet?”

“Sure.”

One giddy ‘wheeee’ later, Darcy kicked off riding her wheeled office chair all the way to Jane’s desk with one arm outstetched like a lance. She ignored her boss’ nonplussed look.

“Make way, make way for Sir Darcy on her trusty steed!”

“One day, you’re going to bump the table or couch and fall over.” Jane warned. “And you’ll break the chair or your _tailbone_.”

“But that day is not today! For she is the redoubtable Knight of the Wheeled Horse and her Chair is faithful! The Menace to toes and fallen forms!” Jane had a feeling that she knew just why they always have more trashed documents than she expected, with many of the poor papers displaying marks of being run over.

The physicist gave up. “Oh, _fine_. It’s on your head—”

“Nope, it’s on my _ass_.” Darcy grinned. “Tailbone, _ass_ , geddit?”

Jane groaned. “ _Darcy_ , that was an awful joke.”

“I know Boss-lady, I know. So, whatcha lookin’ for?”

The astrophysicist launched into a thorough explanation of what Abraham Mosby had told her when he called the last time and what she was looking for now.

Jane figured that she must’ve forgotten to tone down her explanation a little, because Darcy ended up with that familiar wide-eyed and shell-shocked look as she took an early leave for lunch, promising Jane that yes, she’d look it up, but _later_.

‘-

Loki had been sitting on a secluded bench in one of Stark Tower’s many high-altitude terraces with a StarkPad at hand. He closed his email client without thinking, after staring at it for who knows how many countless beats, and leaned back.

A stone fell from the air. It almost hit him on the forehead.

He caught it in his palm. The light blue pebble blinked innocently under the sun. A quick glance upwards allowed him to see the occasional subtle flash of cerulean in the air as another entered, and another, and another. Most other people would’ve been soundly pelted as more arrived. Loki only sighed, stored his StarkPad, and stood up to pick the rest out by a series of flash-teleports.

His gain was in three pebbles the colour of the sky and six others whose edges were sharp and jagged rather than smooth, its blue was shot with angry black veins with a dash of white. They were all of roughly the same size; that was how he knew it was a message, other than how rocks don’t fall out of nowhere for no reason at all. He moved all of them to his storage dimension but two, each an example of their group, turning them carefully in his hands.

The last item to pop out was a thick flattened disk of similar material to the jagged stones. Loki caught it, and noticed that there was actually a hole in the middle. Holding it to this eye would allow him to see through it as if it was a seeing stone.

He almost dropped it when he realised what it meant, face paling. He vanished in a flash of green.

‘-

Jane screamed. She was just glad she was only carrying papers instead of a mug.

“Could you just use the _door?!_ ” She snapped, exasperated.

Loki had appeared out of nowhere, in _her_ lab, and picked up _her_ printouts as if he was a member of the research team all this time. Which he was most definitely _not_ , no matter what Darcy said about data bribes. She marched over to his side and snatched it out of his hands.

“What do you want?” She asked. “I thought you and Darcy had a meeting to go to.”

 “It’s over.”

It didn’t explain why he was here and Darcy wasn’t, not to mention that the sardonic upturn of his lips seem to imply some inside joke he wasn’t sharing.

Jane groaned. She supposed if she was looking for any sort of helpful explanation, the God of Mischief was definitely the wrong place to ask. He took the papers out of her hands and scanned through the pages again, the sound of pages turning accompanied him. He was wearing earth clothes once more, a suit fitted so well that he made her look dowdy. That she looked frumpy bothered her not; she was a scientist, not a model. It unsettled her more that she had no idea _why_ he was here. _Weren’t humans ants to him?_ He drifted in the direction of the kitchen; Loki had begun opening cupboards and boiling water before Jane snapped herself out of her shock.

It was bizarre to see him settle himself into her and Darcy’s corner so easily. She didn’t want him to.

“What are you _doing_?”

He rolled his eyes. “I am quite aware that Darcy is responsible for your beverages, but I am unaware that you do not even know how to make one.”

She saw him drop a tea bag into his mug. _When did he even figure out that the tea was there?_

“No, what are you doing here in the _lab_? _Why_ are you here?”

He shrugged. “I was bored.”

“So you read my research,” Jane eyed him astutely. A person does not survive long in the academia without being able to spot that other people might grudgingly see the potential in one’s hypothesis. She could scent the smallest hint of interest in her research sharper than a bloodhound could.

“You’re the only Midgardian meddling with things better left alone that I know of.” He said.

“The one with the cutting edge research in this field,” Jane replied, undeterred. “Because you’d find only a handful of other people are working on inter-dimensional phenomenon on earth other than me, and most are in large labs in different corners of the earth.”

He seemed to be more interested in locating the sugar than answering her. He placed the pot on the countertop and went searching again. She was unnerved by how comfortable he seemed in the kitchen.

“What are you looking for?” Jane asked.

“Spoon.”

“They’re in the drawers to your left. No one reads data that quickly if they’re merely reading. You’re skimming. You’re looking for something.” She followed the clues with persistence. His attention wasn’t on her.

“Mmm, am I?”

“You were reading data the last time you were here. You read faster than most people, but not that fast.” She folded her hands in front of her chest. “I can scream and have people running in here right now. I want answers, Loki, _now_.”

“I can open portals again, if you wish to see them.” Loki said casually as he cocked his head to one side.

It annoyed her that he knew what she wanted so easily and would use it without remorse.

“Where’s Darcy?” Jane asked, unable to keep the worry from her voice.

“I’m certain your assistant is quite capable in looking after herself, _Lady Jane_. Now, do you truly want me to leave?” The look that he gave her was tending towards condescending, his patrician nose high in the air. Jane had no idea how Darcy had not throttled Loki after all this time.

‘-

An hour or two later, Darcy strode into the middle of the lab. She had changed into jeans and sneakers because she wasn’t going to trip herself by wearing heels more than necessary—she kept the suit jacket on, though, because she was too lazy to look for something else. Jane had finally given in to Darcy’s persuasion that more monitors are going to make it easier for her to eyeball data, so it didn’t surprise her to see that Jane had turned on three others set on the wall other than her primary one. All that Darcy could see from this distance were numbers, the occasional graph and a lot of those barcodes graph.

What she hadn’t expected to see was Loki arguing with Jane over some of said barcode. She would’ve thought about how weird and yet oddly _normal_ the scene was if she wasn’t more concerned about the way their voices were getting pointed. She dropped her bag on the floor and crossed half the room without thinking.

“Whoa, whoa, _chill!_ If the two of you had stopped talking about the machines or methods and start throwing insults, you’re both wound up _way_ too tight to see straight.”

Darcy stood right between them. Jane backed away with a frustrated huff, but Loki was more difficult. He stood his ground, and it wasn’t as if Darcy had the strength to push him back. Her hand just lay helplessly on his chest while he stayed as unyielding as a _wall_. A really well-dressed wall, though. One that smelled delicious— _oh goddammit, stop right there, Darce!_

“It isn’t my fault that she couldn’t see—”

“Nope. Not listening anymore. No sciencing until everyone calms down, we’re having a break. Jane, please, _sit_. I’m going to make some coffee and order some food here because I _know_ you haven’t had lunch again, have you?” The sheepish look on Jane’s face was compltely expected. She turned to Loki. “D’you want coffee? Or something else?”

“He made tea when he came. _For himself_ ,” Jane said from somewhere over the couch.

Was it just her feeling or did Jane sound vindictive when she said that? That was weird, because she’d always thought of Jane as one of the nicest people she knew. She saw Loki rolling his eyes.

“Yes, because picking up the kettle must’ve been so very _difficult_ for you.”

“Dude, that’s still a bit of a dick move. Without interns, whoever’s boiling water makes drinks for everyone. Lab rules,” Darcy answered. “Still, first-timers are pardoned for obvious reasons.”

She sidestepped Loki to locate the pile of menus they kept there. She was pretty sure she judged the distance between them correctly, but apparently, she made a mistake as her hips had just pushed his hand aside. She cleared her throat, picked several sheets, handed them over to him and was in the process of passing the rest to Jane.

“I’m ordering Chinese. What do you guys want?” She asked.

Loki raised one of the papers he was holding casually. “Results that aren’t this _noisy_.”

“Clean the data yourself, then!” Jane snapped.

“I’m sorry but none of those options are on the menu!” Darcy said. Her voice was nauseatingly cheerful on purpose. No one could be as aggressively nice as anyone who’d worked in retail for a while.

“Please choose something else before I order extra spicy curry instead for both of you!”

Darcy wielded her phone like a machete, staring down two of her friends and not accepting more science discussions for an answer or pointed jabs at each other. After a while, both gave up and made their order.

‘-

Lunch was tense instead of relaxed and it seemed that everyone other than Darcy was more interested in finishing the food as quickly as possible so they could get back to work. This was how Darcy knew that Jane’s idle follow-up on her friend Abe’s questions was going to have to be put on the backburner. Even as Loki and Jane conferred on issues and approaches together, the sniping started up again not long after that.

_“You can’t actually read it, can you?” When it came to her field, Jane could be cannier than a fox. She’d seen the way Loki stared at the barcode stuff as if it was something he found underneath his shoe._

_“Of course I can. I did read up on your primitive notation.”_

Yeah, and I’m sure you weren’t frowning because the lines annoyed the heck out of you _, Darcy thought. It wasn’t as if Darcy didn’t see his StarkPad lying two desk away that was open on ‘how to read a spectrogram’. Jane didn’t see that, but she followed his movement tighter than an eagle could and came to more or less the same conclusions._

_Jane rolled her eyes. “You keep going back and forth on those pages instead of moving on.”_

_“Because you grouped them incorrectly,” Loki countered._

_“You don’t even_ know _why they’re grouped that way.”_

_He raised an eyebrow. “No? I know enough to see that many twin suns are_ unmarked _.” That seemed to have hit a particular nerve because Darcy could see Jane tensing as Loki pointed a few of the stars out. She reread their stats to be certain only to shake her head in disbelief._

_“You can’t tell that those are binary systems from the spectrograms!”_

_“Unlike some people, I’m not foolish enough to only rely on them._ ”

Seriously, was it Jane’s fault that she wasn’t familiar with the alien constellations visible in six of the pictures? Or that Loki knew enough of what distortions needed to be removed from some of the photographs to make it visible in the first place? Not all of us are portal-making sorcerers, after all, much less _interstellar travellers_. Also, guess who had to Google all sorts of exotic image filters while the two people busy sciencing argued about the details of the anomaly distortion effect? Guess who had to figure out how to code said filters?

It devolved from there and _wow_ , she never thought that Jane had it in her to be that catty (‘it sure is nice to be a prince with your own extrasolar observatory! I’m sure everyone has one—oh, wait, _not!_ Some of us get on waiting lists for _months_ to use large telescope arrays and we don’t always get a do over when the weather _sucks ass_! Then, no observation for you!’) Not that Darcy thought Loki didn’t deserve it. He kept reading through pages and pages of Jane’s work as if it was a really interesting if difficult novel ( _Les Miserables_ came to mind, not that she’d read the novel). The least he could do was thank her for allowing him to read it and admit her great points instead of criticising _everything_.

He could really be a major jerkass.

If Darcy hadn’t been in the lab and forced a change of topics more than once, she didn’t know how long the peace would last. Sure, Jane was touchy, but that wasn’t exactly something new or unexpected. She’d always been awfully protective of her space and the lab certainly counted and Jane wasn’t someone who could take Loki’s dissembling in a stride. Darcy knew how to make Jane feel better (or at least not worse); just make sure Loki didn’t wander too close to her desk. Loki, though, was _odd_. He’d always struck her as unflappable—he could teach a master class on a thousand and one ways to ignore people, but right now, something was getting under his skin (and it wasn’t just Jane either).

It bothered her that she didn’t know what it was.

“Look, if you hate what we’re doing so much, you could just walk out,” Darcy finally said. He sniffed.

“As if you were going to go far on your own.”

Darcy stared at the ceiling for a few seconds and took a deep breath before she spoke to him, her voice even. “Oh, but we _can_. It might take us longer, but we’ll get there all the same because Jane drives herself harder than anyone else. I don’t even understand why you want to be here. You annoy the hell out of Jane and Jane pisses you off.”

“You’d be happier if you just leave—so why do you stay here, Loki?”

There, she pointed it out; he always had more choice than he seemed to imply. Loki scrutinised her with unnerving emerald gaze. She could almost feel his mind obsessively constructing a perfect copy of her to disassemble for his understanding. Darcy couldn’t decide whether she was flattered or rattled.

“That question is not as selfless as it seems, is it?” He asked.

She blinked. “What?”

“You would be just as glad to see the last of me. You only refrained from saying so to lull me—”

“You’re _wrong_ again,” she cut in. She wasn’t even angry at it. “If you want to know what I think, just ask. Don’t make really weird guesses.”

“Why would anyone tell the truth to their disadvantage?”

“Why would the truth hold me back? _I_ don’t run away from it.” Darcy threw back. She ignored his slight frown. “And you can’t distract me that easily. Why stay here in the first place? Why not just leave?”

He sidestepped her. “Because I want to.”

_Dammit. That’s not a frickin’ answer!_

“You _want_ to get pissed off?” She asked.

He raised an inquiring eyebrow. “Is that what I wanted?”

The question was too easy that it couldn’t be anything but a trap. She shut up to _think_ but couldn’t for the life of her come up with a better question to ask. For better or worse, he did calm down a little after that. He had stopped needling Jane unnecessarily, especially once Darcy became more proactive in stepping in before a mounting argument turned into a snit. It worked even better once she figured out what stuffs he was looking for was and started piling them on the coffee table so he and Jane didn’t have to interact with each other for it. Loki had the couch, Jane stayed on her desk, and Darcy sat on the other end of the couch to referee anything potentially disastrous between him and Jane while combing through more local weather reports. She sat leaning on the armrest.

With her shoes and socks abandoned, her feet rested on his lap.

 ‘-

Time passed quickly when you’re busy. Darcy was getting the hang of heading off arguments before they became one and a tentative peace returned to the lab. That was when the double doors slid open and revealed Thor. For all intents and purpose he was about to pick Jane up. As he stepped into the room, the first thing that caught his eyes were—surprise, surprise— _Loki_. Said magician was still too absorbed in his reading to notice.

Thor froze in the doorway.

Darcy cursed silently even as she sat up. _Great! Because it’s not as if we have enough awkward family reunions yet!_

‘-

There was definitely one person who was happy to see the blond Asgardian—his girlfriend.

“Thor!”

That single syllable drew everyone’s attention, and what motion had been suspended exploded once more. Jane avoided obstacles, finding her way through her territory by instinct. Thor seemed to want to meet her partway very much, but could not take his eyes off his brother. Loki had stood up at this point, his back too straight. Darcy was a second away from moving, watching everything warily.

“I should go,” Thor began with a step back.

“ _Please_ , don’t hold yourself back on my account. I can see myself out.” There was a knife’s edge hidden under the velvet tones of his voice. Darcy involuntarily shivered (and not with fear). Thor looked conflicted.

Darcy stepped in deftly.

“Thor, you could just pick Jane up if that’s what you came here for. You _were_ about to pick up Jane, right?” She didn’t even wait for Thor to answer. “Loki, Thor and Jane are leaving soon. Do _you_ still want to read Jane’s work this evening?”

She could see that he had a problem actually saying that Jane’s research was interesting. _Well, too bad. I’m not letting him dodge the issue_. Jane was bristling—Darcy thought she knew exactly why that is. No, she wasn’t going to let him trawl over Jane’s work without the astrophysicist around.

“I could make a copy of your papers before we leave, Boss-lady,” Darcy said to Jane. “But only if you say so.”

 Now that the choice was in her hands, _Jane_ looked conflicted. Loki solved that for her a beat later.

“It will not be necessary.”

“You get what you want, already?” Darcy asked.

For some reason, Loki chuckled; a discomfiting sound full of veiled discordances. His gaze towards her was harsh in its openness and she was even more unsure than before. His voice was soft; she could almost imagine it to be kind, if she was the type of person to lie to herself.

“When do we ever get what we want, Miss Lewis?”

She could see the shadow of an ironic smile, one only readable to her now after all their shared lazy mornings. For that reason alone, it felt oddly dear. Loki walked away from them all with that last parting shot. He carried nothing and took nothing.

Darcy did not know that it was the last time he would be there in a long while.

‘-

The assistant was still dazed by Loki’s last repartee when Thor approached her.

“You are most correct, Lady Darcy.”

“I am?”

“I do not think I know my brother as well as I thought I did, nor am I as prepared to move to the future as I like. For your advice, you have my utmost gratitude.”

Thor held her hand in his large ones, his gratitude warming her. He returned to Jane after a final nod. The astrophysicist sent a quick goodbye and a wave, slightly confused at how everything turned out. Darcy would bet that she still wasn’t half as muddled as Darcy herself was. Now, there was only one in the room where there had been four.

She sat back down on the couch, trying to settle her thoughts.

‘-

There was a pattern in the anomalies. Jane was sure of this and she would prove it with sweat and blood.

She didn’t say it out loud, of course—it wasn’t even a hypothesis yet at this point. The idea was just the hunch of a brain that had long been used to sift through hundreds of pages of data on stellar radiation, the distribution of star types, the metallicity of solar systems of different ages… It had absorbed and digested various possible models for the universe at the nanoscopic scale that will hopefully explain the particular curvature and oddities observed in the macrocosmic scale. Her mind was trained to compute, _lived_ to compute and find the beauty in the invisible symmetries that have constructed the intricate universe.

She trusted it to come to its own answer given enough time and a bit more prodding and writing later.

Jane had not missed the way Loki’s frown had gone heavier the more of her studies that he read. He hid it well; he was as annoyingly sarcastic as always and was constantly out for her blood. The astrophysicist would frankly admit that if it wasn’t for Darcy, the two of them would probably be busier trading barbed quips than doing anything productive. She was aware that she wasn’t exactly a people person, but she was pretty sure that most of it was caused mostly by Loki’s acerbic nature—she didn’t even know what set him off this time, not that she cared that much to find out. What she managed to see was how whenever he was alone, hints of heavy thoughts would sometimes surface.

_Perhaps he was being ornery because he had things in his mind?_ Jane was surprised by that insight. She wasn’t usually that aware of people’s quirks, and so it was unexpected. Yet it would explain many things…

As much as she didn’t like Loki personally, she could respect his knowledge. To have a second set of eyes adding weight to what she suspected made her feel confident on one hand, and deeply worried on the other. But Jane had no answer now—not yet. This was why she could leave the oddity of her experience at the lab alone for that day and spend an evening with Thor, perhaps with a nice dinner later. She was not the only person who was worn from their experience with Loki.

“I wished I had thought to come later,” Thor said, as Jane spread the food on the table.

Jane furrowed her brows. “Why?”

“I have ruined the peace you have established with Lady Darcy and Loki.”

The burst of laughter that followed that was genuine. “ _Peace_? You thought there was _peace_ with all three of us?”

“I saw the writings on the board to the back of the chamber,” he calmly said. Thor may not be one for complicated details, but it did not make him ignorant.

“There were pictures and notes in Loki’s handwriting and then there were yours; and perhaps there was even Lady Darcy’s smaller letters in between. You are working at something together—more than I could manage with my own brother after a year.”

The sadness in his words was so well-worn that they were small enough to be tucked into the pause between sentences, hiding the still-open wound within the sharp inhale of a breath. Now that Darcy had pointed it out to her she could not stop hearing them.

“Oh _Thor_.”

She placed the plate of pasta down and went around the table. What could she do but hug him? He held her in his embrace and she let out a long sigh. Thor was always so warm and welcoming, but she hated to think that the hurt had been his constant companion for some time now. She didn’t like the idea that she had failed to see it.

“We weren’t at peace,” she felt obligated to point that out to the vicinity of his shirtfront. “Without Darcy standing in the middle, we’d be at it like cats and dogs all the time. I know that physics is probably so much farther in your world, but he is always so…so _dismissive_ of earth! As if he hadn’t seen anything more _pathetic_ and I couldn’t let him go unchallenged, could I? I don’t even know how she keeps her patience and not just strangle him on the spot.”

“And for all that he says, he had stayed to read your work. He has read beyond the first half of the papers in his hand.” Thor observed. His chest rumbled with the answer, while the steady sound of his heartbeat coaxed her eyes closed. He was still patting her back in a gentle, soothing motion and Jane would gladly curl herself deeper if the realisation didn’t hit her like one of Thor’s thunderbolts.

“He…” Jane paused. Thor was right.

Loki hung out at the lab to go on complaining for several more _hours_ as he _kept_ _reading_. She had the cause and effect all _wrong_. This was why people were always so annoyingly messy for her—the direction of the thermodynamic arrow of time between any set of events can rarely be established beyond certain doubt.

“Oh, that…that _jerk_!” Jane huffed. She pushed away, kissed a confused Thor, and ran off to her room. “I’m sorry, Thor. I’ll just be for a while! I need to make sure some things. Anyway, thank you for that!”

Thor smiled a private smile to himself and began tidying Jane’s portion of dinner. She would want to warm it sometime in the night, and the least he could do was to place it in a practical container to keep it for the time being.

Jane walked back into the room, holding her cell phone to one ear.

“Bruce? It’s me, Jane. Do you know of several discreet lab assistants, preferably physics majors or at worst anyone with a hard science degree? No, it’s not for the intern situation. I need a fresh pair of eyes to look at my data, just to make sure I’m not seeing things.”

A small pause.

“What, _you_? Oh, you don’t need to do that! I know you’re still busy in Denver!”

“…”

“ _No_. You’re taking too much. If I could talk to Betty or one of your other colleagues _right now_ and they say yes to it, I’d send the data over, otherwise, I’m not over burdening you with it.”

She laughed. The sound so clear and carefree that Thor couldn’t help the smile that grew on his face. Jane met his gaze and her mirth grew even warmer.

“I don’t care if it’s blackmail. If there’s one thing I learned from Darcy about wrangling workaholic scientists, it’s always to watch their limits. Come on, there’s got to be other people that you and Tony would trust to keep things to themselves in this tower, right?”

‘-

The planets of this system would soon reach a convenient alignment six hours from now.

The living room of apartment no. 8 on the 127th floor of Stark Tower was empty, with most of its sparse furniture that he did not bring with him pushed into the bedroom. All that was left there was the man in leather armour sitting cross-legged on the floor, an old pair of mortar and pestle, and a paintbrush that had rolled to the side. He had not left the premises in the last few days and had not slept in just as long, caught up with the final stages of his preparation. A large square had been drawn on the floor with rust coloured ink, almost taking up its surface. Inside it was a circle on whose edges lay the representation of stars. The square, circle and the smaller geometrical shape in between were made of letters instead of lines, old and only vaguely familiar to earth. What they say, no human alive could read.

Loki was not of the habit of carrying everything in his pocket dimension—the space was not unlimited, no matter what some may think. Yet he did carry reagents to work with in case of emergency. What he had was nowhere near the amount that he wanted, but he supposed he will have to make do. The ingredients for his counter-ward were not impossible to improvise with some effort. The reason why he bothered to even draw one was its necessity in providing cover from detection for him for his next act, especially with most of his magic shackled. He would only need it until the energy build up became too high and it became too late for anyone to interrupt.

With a casual turn of his hand, a small ball fell into his waiting palm from a hole in thin air. He watched the ancient toy as he tossed it, murmuring something under his breath and the ball was cast in an unearthly green glow. Yet that was it. The ball continued on its journey of going up and down with every throw. Up and down it went, glowing green all the way and still undeniably spherical in shape.

“By the _Norns_. Breaking a spell should be easier than casting it.” He said aloud.

His complaint was heard by no one but himself. He knew why it wasn’t as simple as it seemed—he wasn’t a prisoner when he cast it, was he? It did not mean he was happier to realise it. It was one thing to cast when you’re refreshed—it was another to do so when you’re depleted of most of you magic. _This will take more finesse than brute force_. Of course it would. Why he even tried to brute force in the first place something he couldn’t understand. Odds are, it was the sleep deprivation talking, but he couldn’t stop now. If the pebbles he received were any indication, he was taking too much time already.

He caught the ball and covered it with both hands. With a deep breath and closed eyes, he tried to feel the magic he had woven over its surface, loosening the bindings and pulling the threads at the edges. It took the better part of half an hour, but as he opened his eyes and pulled the last string loose, he could see the ball collapsing from the shape he had forced upon it.

In his hands now lay a large bronze chalice.

It lay there with immeasurable patience, for it had long ceased to care for the affairs of the numerous small hasty and fleeting creatures—for what was this but another of many? However, its age gave it a distinct if indefinable weight in the fabric of reality that not many other objects had. It had a detectable presence, if you will, and it was possible to feel it if one was attuned to how things lay in the world.

There was a good reason why Loki hadn’t dispelled any earlier, not until he was sure there were no other sorcerers in this tower but him.

A bottle dropped out from his extra dimension into his hand, dark red in its colouring. He pulled the cork out. For all that it looked like Darcy’s bottle of cheap wine (that had been emptied and thrown away), the thick liquid that poured out of it into the artefact was nothing like the drink. He poured it for a while, much longer than anyone would think as necessary to empty it and the bottle did have more liquid than anyone consider to be possible. One would think that the cup would not only be filled at this point, but overflowing already. A green-tinged portal took the bottle away once more.

Oddly enough, the chalice was barely half full.

The ancient vessel was made to be a container and an amplifier of magic, so why shouldn’t he use it? He did need to escape with the cup and there was nothing to stop him from using it to assist him in that direction in the mean time.

Another flick of his hand and a different bottle fell into his grasp. This time, it was that of the cranberry juice that Darcy had mistakenly bought. Once more, the liquid inside it was not the original. It was far thicker and darker. He poured it out into the chalice, far longer than anyone would reasonably expect from a vessel that size. Once emptied, he dismissed the bottle as well.

Loki took a knife out of his belt, incongruous in it modernity. Pulling up the sleeves of his left arm, he gritted his teeth and scored yet another line out of several already there, letting the chalice catch the steady red flow of blood to join the same red liquid that was already there. Blood magic was one of the oldest in the universe and the most basic. It can always be performed even in the most backwards of planets with barely any advanced tools on hand—was it any wonder, then, that this was what he resorted to?

It will be a while until he had collected enough. Then, he would take a gamble, possibly even with his life.

_In the mean time…_

In the mean time, he retrieved a parchment and a pen. It was too bad that he would part ways with Darcy. He hadn’t been surprised in a long while until she put forward that mildly extortionate offer to Asgard. Odin would be unamused if he had been there. The sheer brazenness of the idea… On second thoughts, Loki would happily pay to see that.

Loki recalled one of Darcy’s oddly interesting books and wrote a fitting farewell, the echo of a lopsided smile on his lips.

If he had any regrets, you couldn’t read it on his face.

‘-

When the last weave of the false form Loki had cast upon the chalice fell apart, a smaller, lesser false form began to decay as well because the stronger spell that had anchored it and was linked together was gone. Inside a well-secured box from an Assyrian exhibit, a bronze cup shimmered for several minutes. When the last of the magic evaporated, only an ancient child’s ball was left inside it.

The curators would not find out until a day later. Management’s first reflex was definitely to call insurance first to file their claim—and with them came the insurance investigators. The museum had insisted on having someone with an archaeology background, and because of that they were lucky enough to be assigned an investigator that was the perfect fit for the case. Taichi Hiraga-Keaton read archaeology at Oxford and was one no-nonsense ex-SAS Brit; he knew damn well that magic existed and checked for it first before he touched anything or began more mundane investigations, saving as much as a week in wasted efforts.

(A bunch of cultists broke in several days later and tried some unadvised necromantic ritual. How his level-headed presence helped kept the situation under control and contained the…ex-living cultists and a loose revenant until the Dr. Strange arrived was a story for another day).

Still, by the time the curators managed to get in touch with Dr. Strange, it would be too late.

‘-

Seven hours later, Darcy would find a parchment laid perfectly in the middle of her coffee table and a knife she had been looking for since yesterday in the lab. To its side was a pile of well-worn pebbles, one of which had a curious hole in the middle. Her apartment had never been neater. A short message could be read on the sheet’s surface and it would cause her to pale when she saw it.

_So long and thanks for all the fish_.

_PS: I do not recommend you to visit Apartment no. 8_.

She dropped the paper as soon as she finished reading. This was why she missed the other sentence at the back of the page.

_Winter is coming_.

‘-

An hour before the paper will be found by Darcy, Loki held the chalice filled with blood in his hands. What needed to be burnt had been burnt. What he needed to spread had been spread. He had written the destination he wished for into the walls and floor in a script known only to scholars and magicians—and more frequently, people who are both. He had consulted the star charts and wrote the relevant positions of stars and planets in as well. As the siblings of earth aligned itself with the planet, Loki began to invoke the spirit of the land Stark Tower resided upon in a language older than Babylon.

_With good faith, all honours belong to thee, my Host, for I am but a guest on these Lands. I have been received well; the courtesies of my hostess I have paid in full several times, for her generosity is a credit to thee and the light of her spirit deserves far more than what I can provide on a traveller’s meagre belongings._

He could feel the power gathering around him, collecting in the chalice with his blood. Loki allowed himself to smile as he closed his eyes, taking a deep draught of the magic permeating the air as they twinkled with sparks of light. _This_ was what it meant to be _alive_. He continued on, with a chant whose outline he had memorised from the time of his boyhood; the details are always improvised, to be changed as the situation warrants. He poured a pocket of earth from Frigga’s rose garden into the cup.

_Witness, then, thou who hast taken the measure of my honour, that I am indeed honourable beyond reproach as the land of my childhood will attest for me. Helpless I am to take my leave now but for any assistance thou mayst render to help slip beyond the veil of worlds, for the walls of this fortress is tall and vigorous in their defence and would be perfection manifested but for its mistake in insisting that I am an enemy, for they have taken me as guest for this visit and I can wish them no harm for a favour as great._

_Presently, my heart’s desire is only to leave._

Pressure fell upon his shoulders as the spirit’s ponderous attention began to focus on the room in particular than any other place in the tower. Considering the spirit’s size and age, even what could pass for a slightest glance from it carried great pressure and weight; if he was an ordinary human he’d be driven to his knees with a nosebleed. Loki could weather it, and he acquired the notice of a being so slow he will never be quite sure of its consciousness.

_Grant, Host, this need of thine humble guest to free himself from unfair imprisonment and the binding chambers of this fortress, if his honour proves as true as his blade._

For a moment, the blood glowed quicksilver and spun a little tempest within the cup. He raised it in front of him and the liquid danced away, arcing up to create a wall, a border, a threshold, a _door_ —soon its middle grew transparent before melting away completely, but what he could see through it is not the other side of the room. It was the unsettled twisting void of the lands in-between, as solid as clouds, framed by a floating red oblong doorway whose edges carefully dripped down back to the chalice. Sometimes, the borders were _fed_ by the chalice. The result was a rotating, somewhat-liquid border. The amount needed to sustain the door will fall into a small, creepy blood pool on the floor once he was done, but it would hold as long as he was on this side. Within the slight rankness of blood the fragrance of eglantine wove delicately through.

Feeling that it had a good chance of working and seeing it to completion are two very different things. It was a wonderful, exhilarating feeling to be able to prove once more that it was not merely people that he could sweet talk to.

Loki _laughed_ , wild with inhuman joy. His grin had more pointed teeth than one would normally expect. All that was left to do was to walk through the portal.

“Well. This should be quick and easy,” he mused.

It would be very nice if there was someone to inform him that those Words are tantamount to throwing down the gauntlet to fate, but alas they were already said, and fate has the bad habit of never turning down a good wager.

'-

## End of Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Chapter XX and end of Part 1! Wow, never thought I'd manage to write any story this far. Thanks for everyone who'd come along for a ride. My update speed is slowing down from this point since I want to finish most of Part 2 before I start updating again. That was my plan, anyway.
> 
> (Loki’s habit of politeness is starting to make some sort of sense here, isn’t it? Ulterior motives ftw.)
> 
> I hope nobody wants to kill me for that last chant; I held back from going Chaucer spelling (or worse, by taking more grammatical elements from Old English). Hopefully it has the Ye Olde English feel without sacrificing legibility.
> 
> By the way, who’d seen that prison break coming?  
>   
> 
> And now, on unrelated news: I was sort of tinkering a bit with Sarah's background story. This was purely to amuse myself, though, as it's certainly not necessary to know to the main plot here. So, I didn't exactly plan on uploading it, but I thought I'd ask first before assuming. Would anyone be interested in it? And if I may ask, why exactly?  
>   
> 
> The Weird and Random Glossary:
> 
> **_Metallicity_ :** (in the astronomic and physical cosmological sciences) the proportion of non-hydrogen and non-helium elements. Why metal, you wonder? Because the older meaning of the word metal is simple minerals. This proportion is used in placing stars into different categories.
> 
> **_Telescope Array_ :** Exactly what it says on the tin, a telescope array is a set of telescopes working together as if they’re one. The purpose of this is to create an instrument whose resolution is similar to a single telescope whose diameter is close to the maximum distance between the individual telescopes in the array. This is usually done with the aid of an interferometer; an instrument that combines the signal from two or more telescope, creating a sharper picture than each can separately. 


	21. XXI. Implosions, Portals and Doors, Part 1 (the Lotus Eaters)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Shit hits the fan. Thor and Darcy are caught in the first backlash. Darcy’s mind is trying to unconsciously piece stuff together and comes up with the fantastic (with a little help). Tony and ‘Tasha investigates. Loki always has an angle._
> 
> _Jane finishes analysing her data—the puzzle in her hands resolves into a golden key._
> 
> _Some of the best meetings happen unplanned and unexpected. Plans do not always work the way we wish them to._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I'm apparently weak against my enthusiastic commenters and readers, you could look forward to chapters XXI and XXII being uploaded soon. Summary applies to both chapters as a whole.

## Part 2 – That Yet We Sleep

### Implosion, Portals, Doors, Part 1 (the Lotus Eaters)

Darcy’s mind was still numb with disbelief when she read the parchment in her apartment, but her legs moved faster and ran to all the places she wanted to. She scoured the library, checked the server room and even checked the lab. She didn’t care if it was in the middle of the night as Stark Tower did not exactly sleep, so she wasn’t as conspicuous as she first thought. She didn’t find Loki. _Of course you didn’t—what exactly did you expect?_

Now, she was left with either trying to knock on his apartment or to forcibly summon him through his cell.

( _I do not recommend you to visit Apartment no. 8_.)

The warning in his note was lodged uncomfortably in her mind like a pebble in her shoe. Why was he trying to keep her out? Was it to keep people out from apartment number eight or was it just to keep _her_ out? Should she do it now or wait until morning comes?

No, she wouldn’t wait until she had any idea of what was going on, not when the fine hairs of her arms were standing and she had a _really_ bad feeling about this.

So she took the elevator all the way back to her floor and knocked on his door. There was no answer—this wasn’t a surprise. She would’ve knocked louder if she thought it would make any difference, but she was sure it could wake Jane and Thor. _But what was wrong about waking Jane and Thor?_ That was a very good question. She ran over to number four and started banging her fists on the door.

“Jane? Jane! Are you home?”

Making a snap decision, she moved to number three. “Thor? Thor! You’re there, right?”

It was only two minutes until the door swung open, but it had felt longer to her. She couldn’t help the cry of relief that escaped when she saw his concerned face. He gladly hugged her, his comfortable bulk providing what little anchor he could for the solid ground she felt she was losing. He was just…there, the ever-dependable Thor.

“Is there something wrong, Darcy?”

“Is Jane with you?”

“She’s still asleep. She has not had enough in the last few days, frenzied as she is in her work. Darcy?”

“It’s Loki,” Thor frowned. She felt compelled to clarify and head off any misunderstanding. “I can’t find him. I tried knocking his door and there was no answer. I don’t have a good feeling about it.”

“Perhaps he is simply asleep?” Thor offered kindly.

She almost wanted to tell him that Loki slept over at her place most of the time anyway so this was doubly irregular, but she tamped it down because it was probably the hysteria speaking and this wasn’t the time for unexpected reveals. Darcy rubbed her forehead and heaved a sigh.

“I don’t have a good feeling about this, about tonight.” Darcy admitted. “I just have to tell someone about it, y’know? If you think that I’m only being weird and it’s better to get to his room in the morning, alright. But I just can’t shake the ominous feeling…”

Her eyes were drawn once more to door number eight. Thor saw what had caught her attention once more and walked towards it, knocking on the door.

“There’s no answer, see? Nothing,” Darcy said. She could see his thoughts turning tumultuous with her words and he began to consider the possibilities she tried not to think too hard about.

“Loki? If you do not open up now, I will be forced to summon you from the imprisonment chamber! Lady Darcy is concerned for you.”

Darcy couldn’t help but blush from Thor’s last statement. She was worried, yes, but the way Thor said it made it seem like she was a heroine from a Regency novel looking for the gentleman she gave her handkerchief too…and it was giving her all sorts of association that made her insides spin even more. As if she hadn’t had enough crap she needed to actually sit and think through. She rubbed her forehead, willing her mind to clear.

“There’s no answer, is there, Thor?”

Thor’s expression was stormy. “No. It would seem that we must resort to extreme measures.”

Darcy pressed her lips together.

“I have a better idea.” She took a steadying breath. “Jarvis? You listening?”

A disembodied voice rang in the air around them. From the way Thor’s arm briefly clenched and unclenched with Jarvis’ answer, she could see he was still not too used to it.

“Yes, Miss Lewis?”

“You’ve seen what we’re trying to do, right?”

“You were trying to locate the entity known as Loki and he did not answer you at the door.”

Darcy huffed. “I’ve tried all the places I can think of and I have no better idea. Jarvis, do you think you can unlock the door?”

“I’m sorry Miss Lewis, but I can’t do that. Mr. Stark takes the privacy of all his guests seriously. If you can provide evidence of an emergency or a critical condition for it, I will open it for you.”

“Dammit!” she cursed.

“But I will not stop you from trying to bring the door down.”

Darcy grinned. Thank goodness for loophole-aware AIs. “Thank you, Jarvis.”

“You’re welcome, Miss Lewis.”

“So, Thor, think you can bring the door down?” She asked. The blond Asgardian stood tall and proud, appearing with the gravitas of the prince he was, even in earth clothes. In his hand was his trusty hammer—she had no idea when he retrieved it, only that it was there now.

“Easily,” Thor answered. He raised Mjölnir high in the air, and Darcy backed away before it met the door with a resounding _crack_. She was not imagining the brief flash of light at the point of impact or the shattering lines that spread from the middle to everywhere. Darcy would’ve ducked, but apparently the door exploded inwards rather than outward and spared her the hail of wood chips.

She followed Thor in, barely noticing how he had paled.

The first thing that she saw was the great gouts of dark red that covered the floor, radiating outwards from a small area in the middle with all the acrimony of an accursed sun. Some splashes of colour could be found on the walls in vicious bursts.

It would seem that something had exploded there ( _or someone_ , a part of her said, but she refused to acknowledge).

In the parts that were not deluged or covered, there were drawings and letters on the floors and walls though a glint caught her eye on the floor. Thor might have called her then, but she did not listen, compelled by her heartstrings to kneel and pick up the curled piece of metal there. Thick liquid splashed her hands and she cut her fingers on sharp pieces embedded on the floor but neither sensation gave her pause. The acrid taste of rust began to form at the back of her mouth only to be admitted and ignored.

It was a familiar serpent made of metal, biting its own tail. The brooch was larger than the one she already had, the size of her palm. Its dark green gems for eyes glittered with welcome at her touch.

Then, the stench of blood hit her. She saw the redness of her hands and her soaked up jeans. She saw where she was kneeling with an offering received and taken in her hand—and what a picture she made! The lady by the dark water that glistened silver in the moonlit night. The lake, however, was of blood than water, and she was less of a Waterhouse sprite and more of a figure in Goya’s Nightmares of War. Her stomach churned. She covered her mouth, unaware that she was smearing her chin and cheeks. Darcy ran to the bathroom to empty what little remained from her midnight snack. On the porcelain seat, the red hand prints she left everywhere were a voiceless plea.

When she’d finished washing her face and cleaning herself (what little she could do, when the blood had seeped, and she was half sure it had sunk into her skin too), she straggled back to the living room. Sometimes the pool of carmine gleamed quicksilver at the corner of her eyes. She resolutely ignored it to throw her arms around Thor, unconsciously marking him with the colour of violence. They clung to each other, offering wordless comfort as one does among family. Darcy couldn’t hold back her sobs anymore even if she was uncertain what she was crying for.

‘-

Jarvis had deemed the situation an emergency and contacted tower security; the AI called for assistance as soon as he could see inward using the hallway camera right in front of the door. Jarvis’ image of the room had resolved from whatever magical interference had been there once Thor broke the door down and he entered it with Darcy.

Darcy drifted away to her apartment and Thor returned to his. She would sit on top of her toilet seat, lost in her own thoughts for a while. It would be another twenty minutes or so until people started arriving, as Jarvis had prevented anyone not personally involved to reach the 127th floor and rerouted or rescheduled any non-essential personnel as well. As far as anyone knew, apartment number eight was empty once more.

No one had any explanation for the few odd splashing sounds that was recorded to come from inside said apartment’s living room during this time period. Afterwards when cameras were left inside, no more sounds similar to it was recorded.

‘-

Jane woke up to see a bedraggled Thor sitting in the sofa, lost and blood splattered. After her initial moment of panic, she saw that he was uninjured. The blood was someone else’s—she dreaded finding out who it belonged to.

The noises outside her apartment pulled her attention before she can talk, and Jane followed her curiosity. Opening the door, there were various official-looking people, more than a handful men-in-black types and a smattering of people that she’d guessed was lab technician. They were all heading to or from one direction. The trail ended at one of the other apartments on their floor. Its door had been smashed off from its hinges and yellow-and-black tapes cordoning the area off.

Jane could feel Thor standing behind her before he gently pulled her into a hug. She turned around.

“Thor?”

Just looking at him with pain in his eyes hurt more than she wanted to imagine. She closed her arms around him without any prompting, the slight tang of ozone behind a solid earthy scent that was all him was comforting to her. Even the metallic hint of blood on him did not bother her. She had held him when they were ringed with ashes and she will hold him when he smelled of fire and ichor, of battle freshly fought. He had stayed with her too when her mind did its best in containing the universe within it and cared not for the mundane details of everyday life. It did not bother him to be her anchor when she had stars in her eyes and all her ears were listening to was the endless song of space.

She knew what she accepted when she first held his hand and she has yet to change her mind.

“It was Loki’s apartment,” Thor said, his voice thin. “There was so much blood.”

“Oh.” A beat. She wasn’t sure what she expected herself to feel, but she hadn’t gotten over the shock of the news. She did know that she was completely uninterested to see what the apartment with the blown-up door looked like. Even if she never had a good relationship with Loki, she did not want to see him dead.

( _So much blood._ )

“I’m so sorry, Thor.”

He clung to her because she was the only thing in the world that held him together, sharing the blood and sorrow. His head was buried in the crook of her neck, taking comfort in the scent that was Jane. She stroked his back gently. She crooned to him old lullabies she could remember her mother sing. All she could think was how she wasn’t sure if Thor had fully recovered from the first incident of Loki’s ‘death’. He didn’t need another weighing in his mind. She wouldn’t let him fall that badly again, not while she was here.

“Come on,” she said softly, “let’s get back to bed.”

She handed him clean clothes and he changed with only half his mind present. She had found the first answer to her conundrum last night, but getting to the lab was the last thing on her mind today. He pulled her into his arms and she gladly took away his cares, if only for the hour.

‘-

Darcy dragged herself out of her daze when she could hear noises beyond her apartment door. As she pushed the creaky door and stepped out of the bathroom, she thought she could see herself and Loki again, probably arguing about nothing important in the living room. They were in formal clothes that reminded her of the time he pranked Jane. She blinked and the image disappeared.

_Shit_. It was a completely mundane scene but her gut clenched at the thought all the same. She missed the ass more than she thought she would if she’d started daydreaming about both of them—she strode quickly past her living area to walk out of her apartment.

Darcy had expected the police, but after considering the need for discretion, his choice made sense. Security came, with the paramedics following not long after and Darcy had insisted that she was _fine_ , really, but it didn’t seem to stop people from giving her blankets. She had even made some hot chocolate for herself. She let them drape a bright orange one over her, just to get them to stop and leave her alone.

(It was probably the blood. She hadn’t even thought much about it anymore.)

One of the technicians almost dropped his bag when he saw her, his mouth open in surprise. She stared at the duct-taped glasses on his nose, uncomprehending. His eyes followed her from the top of her head to her feet, it was too quick and desperate to be anything else but searching. What he was looking for, she had no idea.

“You know me,” he blurted out all of a sudden. It didn’t even sound like the beginning of some lame pick-up attempt. He was too on-edge and his eyes darted around with the wariness of a prey.

Darcy only raised an eyebrow at him sceptically. “ _Really?_ ”

“Yes, you and your dead friend. You’ve been dead, right?” He asked with wide eyes. “You look alive now.”

Ironically, that wasn’t even the strangest question someone had asked her. She only snorted and shook her head. “Yeah, alive and on my one and only life buddy. I’ll tell you if I suddenly remember otherwise.”

His friend, a tall no-nonsense brunette, elbowed him.

“ _John,_ ” she warned.

“It’s _her_. I swore it was her, Melissa. But the _clothes_ —”

“Is obviously the one she was wearing when she found the crime scene, okay? It couldn’t be her. Let’s just check the camera later, okay?” She cut in, exasperated. The friend gave Darcy a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, Miss, but you’ve been in your apartment the whole time, haven’t you?”

She shrugged. “Sort of. Why?”

The flabbergasted technician was staring back and forth between her face and her blood drenched clothes; she must’ve looked like an extra from _the Exorcist_ but she couldn’t care less. Darcy glanced at him once before proceeding to ignore him again, at least until his more in-control friend—Melissa, was it?—dragged him away.

_“Maybe_ you _should just take the day off—”_ Melissa hissed under her breath.

_“I’m telling you I’m completely fine. What if there was a suicide pact and—”_

_“John,_ drop it. _I mean it…”_

Darcy barely reacted to whatever it was that they couldn’t agree between them as they took their leave and continued to argue in low voices.

(Was she in shock? No she wasn’t. _No_. She didn’t feel like she was in shock. What was shock supposed to feel like, anyway?)

Loki couldn’t be dead, could he? He was far too clever for that.

(Or maybe she just didn’t want to think about it?)

As more and more people arrived and spoke with grim expressions to each other, Darcy managed to return to her room once more. She shed her clothes in the bathroom, numbly washed herself and walked out naked looking for clean change without thinking. Sleep failed to find her and she could only to sit on the bed with its green sheets, leaning against the head board and lost in thought while her hands turned the large serpent brooch again and again.

She had seen the wet track on Thor’s cheeks. If she didn’t feel she’d run out of emotions after her first outburst, she wanted to yell about the unfairness of it all.

A different part of her, the one that can’t stop observing and watching and _poking_ , noticed that some things aren’t as they seem. There are discrepancies. Sometimes she was sure there were flashes of insight at the edge of her thoughts, but every time she tried to chase them down, they fell apart to unintelligible mess. She sighed and curled up on the bed, trying to ignore that hint of mint that was Loki.

Perhaps it would be clearer after she took some rest.

(That last sentence she read still followed her to sleep. ‘ _I do not recommend you to visit Apartment no. 8_.’)

‘-

It wasn’t easy for Jane to fall asleep even as Thor fell into fitful rest. There was a new email in her inbox, from the junior researchers that Bruce Banner reluctantly referred her to when she called him. It was probably about the data she had sent them last evening ( _yesterday, it was yesterday already_ ). The astrophysicist opened it with trepidation, a part of her was desperate to know what it contained and the other part wanted to flung her cell phone to the wall and never pick it up again.

_This is ridiculous, Jane. You’ve checked the steps more than five times. All the methods you choose are_ reasonable _. If anything goes pear-shaped, it’s because there’s something you didn’t see, something that no one could have foreseen. Relax. You can do this_.

One of the first principles of the scientific method was replicability. Jane held on to this with fervour others reserve for the divine. It was why she sent her outputs over to them, the spectrograms, the data on the anomalies and portals, all of it, and asked them to check, even if she was afraid of being wrong. Especially because she was afraid of being wrong. 

(Even if being right was actually worse news. Much worse.)

Jane took a deep breath and clicked the email, scanning through the pleasantries in a hurry. She couldn’t help the cry of relief that flew from her mouth as she reached their conclusion, her lips covered behind her hand. The assistants didn’t know what exactly it was they were staring at, of course. They probably thought it was just data to calibrate some equipment. Some on-the-ground equipment of a top secret rover project that the government is not disclosing, for some weird reason (what was so dangerous about space exploration, after all?), but they did not wonder why. Jane didn’t disabuse them of that notion—she couldn’t even come up with half as convincing an excuse as they did.

They took the same conclusion that she did.

_‘It is clear that five of these data sets are collected from locations that are on the same planet or planetoid, even on the same latitude. We do not believe it is an asteroid except for an unusually large one due to the significant atmosphere detected…_ ’

She rapidly typed a thankful reply to them while she tried to come up with the next step. Jane never realised the spots of blood on her cheeks, the few dried flakes on her shirt that occasionally gleamed silver. She needed to get to the lab, check all the raw data again…

Thor turned restlessly in his sleep, and something felt too tight inside Jane’s chest. She sighed.

She supposed she had to thank Darcy for her idea of backing up everything into the cloud. If she needed to, she could download any and all data she wanted from her apartment. She could stay here if it was simply to read.

Her tiredness caught up with her and she fell asleep on the couch not long afterwards. It was enough for a short nap.

‘-

The club was decorated in warm tones and gold. Most of the accents were purple or the riper shades of mulberry, but the carpet was green. Darcy could see herself speaking to Jane with the words strangely blurred at the edges, as if she was listening to them underwater. She threw the end of her black feather boa over one shoulder ( _why feather boa?_ ) The snake brooch with emerald eyes blinked from her right shoulder.

_Jane, why are you collaborating with Tesla again? Yeah, sending electricity over the air is cool, but you’re_ never _going to sell the idea if you freak people the fuck out! Please, try touring the East Coast with the idea first…_

The redheaded singer was singing on stage about she wouldn’t save you, or something just as morbid. It was appropriately tragic for the club’s atmosphere and the lyrics more than a little creepy—a hit with the absinthe crowd.

_But Darcy, this could revolutionise power! They’ll love this. You see…_

For some reason, Jane insisted that Darcy would only need to see one successful effort to believe that it could be done. She pulled her brown cloche hat tighter, a large pin of trilobite fossil on it, and the scientist-slash-inventor walked out of Darcy’s doors in a huff. Probably off to float her hot air balloon. Thor raised his hat apologetically before he followed his lady love. The brunette sighed. On the other hand, it was crazy enough to work. Jane didn’t even have to think about where she’d get electricity when she could generate it easily with Thor by her side.

( _Tap…_ )

Consciousness permeated Darcy’s foggy mind slowly, but at one point she was aware that the _tap-tap-tap_ sound was not goblins tap dancing on tables in her speakeasy (which would mean bedlam); the creatures were still properly running errands and not tripping the customers. They might be happy to be paid in scraps and candies, but you have to stand your ground and be firm. There’s a reason not many people were brave enough to work with them—if those little buggers think they can run all over you, they’d give you instant pandemonium.

Darcy was up to the challenge.

( _Tap-tap-tap_. _Tap-tap-tap-tap_.)

She turned her head once more, searching. That sound wasn’t the thought police crashing through the doors of her establishment either, as no tables were overturned and no one was screaming. Usually, that happened because Loki was up to no good—if the anti-robot bigots tried to shake her down again because he riled them up too much and lead them _here_ , she was going to punch Loki in the throat. She had nothing on the pro-robots or even the robots themselves; her bartender was an emancipated robot (he goes by _Vision_ ; she wondered what was wrong with a name like _Rob_ or _John_ , but she supposed it was better than _Number 19_ ).

Her issue with his brand of mischief was that she’d feel any setback she experienced right in the purse: it takes hard work to be an independent woman in this day and age and he wasn’t making it any easier. Even if she always liked him dropping in. (You can’t always knee every sucker who called you _slut_ or tried to molest you outright. One of them might be the mayor’s son.)

Oddly enough, there was another familiar brunette there. Sarah lounged in a corner, raising her glass of Southside, looking far more amused by the low-level chaos than was strictly necessary and telling her to _relax_.

_Don’t think too hard about the goblins, you’re doing well enough right now. If you get too tense, they’d sense that too and it’d get worse_.

Darcy snorted. _Easy for you to say. You’re a natural at this. Why can’t you keep handling the goblin?_

She rolled her eyes. _We both need to be able to hold the club alone without the other. Anyway, nobody’s a natural at this. I just had more opportunity to practise_. Sarah whistled, ignoring the scandalised couple on the table next to her as several goblins came to her bidding. Darcy only managed to get one or two to come at once.

_Are you kidding me? You just proved my point_.

_It’s not that hard, let me show you…_

( _Tap-tap-tap-tap_. _Oh, it’s the door. Someone’s knocking on the apartment door._ )

The circling serpent with dark green eyes on her right shoulder blinked at her. It seemed to be content in Darcy’s presence and warmth, to follow her in the absence of Loki. She didn’t wonder why her feather boa was gone to be replaced by the snake (though for some reason it had stiff-featherlike stuff too). It had always been there with her and so it did not matter what form it took.

Wait, who was knocking again? It was odd, wasn’t it? She was already open for business, anyone who wanted to enter could just waltz in if they so choose.

( _No, not that door. Your apartment door. You know, in Stark Tower?_ )

She blinked. She saw a black tank-top instead of a black dress on her. The green carpet that she saw was superimposed with green sheets. _Sheets?_ No, _no_ , they were carpets. They were green because Loki didn’t mind contributing some funds for the club as long as she went for green carpets instead of red. She could compromise colouring for free carpet. It wasn’t as if she liked red anyway.

Too much red reminded her of pools of blood.

( _You know who’d been bleeding recently? Loki. That is, if he isn’t dead enough at this point._ )

If there was something that jolted her straight out of her dreams, it would be that last thought.

Darcy sat up. The bed was solid under her, the sheets as soft as cloud under her skin. She held the found brooch in a death grip in her right hand and it was speckled with red. The metal’s subtle gleam of green pulled her uncomprehending gaze towards it for another second or two, at least until she saw the scratches on her palm. Their sting was barely noticeable. _Huh, okay_.

All she could feel and remember was the walking into apartment number eight and being unable to breathe at the sight of its red-stained carpet. Her hands massaged her forehead warily.

_What the hell have I been dreaming?_

The tapping came again. Someone was knocking on her door. Darcy pulled a blanket over her shoulder, and walked out of her room groggily and not quite there. Her mind still half-expected everything to be done in an Art Deco style; oddly enough, it wouldn’t even clash with the streamlined sensibility of modern-day Stark Tower. _Now, that’s a design aesthetic that could be worth trying_. She sighed and pulled it open.

Tony stood in the doorway, hand half-raised while Darcy rubbed her eyes. She tried not to think of him that he should have a homburg on or a cigar held between his teeth and shook the last cobwebs of dreaming away. The intensity of his expression changed once he saw her and she looked away to avoid seeing the kindness in his eyes. It was hard not to notice the bracers on his arms, the first hint that he could turn into Iron Man at the slightest notice.

“Sheesh, you look like shit.” Tony said.

She snorted. “Thanks for that hit to my self-esteem, Tony.”

“Uh, I didn’t mean that. I mean, you _really_ look like you shouldn’t be wandering out anywhere yet.”

She tried to take a glance behind him and see what was going on. Tony seemed to catch on faster and stepped with her movement.

“Ah, _no_. You just go back and rest, Lewis. We could ask you questions later.”

“I’m _fine_.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “ _Right_. That’s what she said.”

Darcy couldn’t help the smallest of chuckles from escaping. The lines of worry eased away from Tony’s expression in that moment as he allowed himself to laugh along with her. It allowed tension to fall off from both of them and she was sure he needed it as much as she did. She couldn’t remember if he looked so at ease often. (Well, he always did when he was with Pepper, but then his gaze would’ve been obvious in its longing).

“It’s not an emergency. We don’t exactly have that many magic users on call, and without them we can’t begin to follow any magical trails. All we know is that it seemed to have started and ended in that bloody room—that was an accidental pun, by the way. Some people thought that you might’ve known something, but seeing you now…”

“Seeing me now…?” Darcy prompted. Tony shrugged. He gave her cheek a light poke and she could see the trailing mascara on the tip of his finger. She didn’t answer his questioning look.

“I know that finding that room sucks for you. Not as bad as Thor, yeah, but still…it sucks all the same. You’re as in the dark as we are.”

A pang of guilt echoed inside her as she knew it wasn’t _precisely_ true, but what is it that she knew, anyway? _Not enough._ She didn’t even know enough not to walk into that damned apartment and dipped her arms in blood. He placed a supportive hand over her shoulder and she let out a gusty breath.

“Jarvis told me that it was already like that when Thor broke the door down. There wouldn’t be many questions needed asking.” Tony said.

She nodded. It was true enough. 

“I’ll hold everyone else off for now.” He assured her.

She gave him a tired smile. “Thanks, Tony.”

“Not a problem, kiddo. Sleep well.”

“I’ll try.”

The door closed behind her. Darcy made her way to bed again, dropping herself on the sheets and unsure whether the she liked the hint of mint on her bed or not. She pulled one of the lush blankets over her and slipped a hand under her pillow, not quite aware that the brooch was still in her grip as she closed her eyes.

‘-

Tony walked at the hallways of the 127th floor as the crime scene technicians (SHIELD and Stark Industries, to be honest, not the local precinct) swarmed all over apartment number eight. Not that he wanted to walk in there, God, _no_. Just a glance from the outside told him the décor was the love nest of Freddy Krueger and Jackson Pollock. He knew well enough how death smelled by now, especially after Afghanistan, and he had no desire to get reacquainted with that and the associated nightmares. Natasha, though, had calmly wrapped her boots in plastic and went through all the necessary motions that would allow her to personally observe the details inside.

Sometimes he wondered what they did to her in the Red Room to create the cold, competent and untouchable persona that was the Black Widow. Other times, he was too thankful that she was here with them instead of against them that he never asked, especially after that one time she took the shot meant for Pepper. He had said once that should she wish to visit vengeance on those who made her the weapon she is now, she only need to tell him the name and he wouldn’t ask of the detail. She clarified then that the people she wanted dead the most were those she had personally sent to the other side.

_Well, that makes it harder to find presents for you, doesn’t it?_ He groused about the exact same topic and to his surprise, Natasha had laughed. It was short and it vanished as quickly as it had come and made him wonder whether he had imagined it, but she patted him on the shoulder and assured him that surely, Tony Stark was creative enough to come up with something else.

So now, he simply leaned on the wall next to the doorway and waited for her to surface again, because it was the least he could do for a teammate.

“So, found anything interesting?” Tony asked, once she had stepped out.

Natasha didn’t even glance in his direction as she answered. “It’s too clean.”

“ _What._ ” Tony gaped.

Lines formed on her brow. “It’s too clean. Yes, there is blood everywhere. It does spread out in a manner that you would expect if someone has exploded, yet if that happened, there would also be viscera involved. Even when I first entered I smelled nothing of punctured gut or offal. There are no pale specks that would signal brain matter either.”

He did his best not to imagine anything she was saying. “Uh, what if someone was squeezed out and his remains thrown away like so much orange rind? The muscle and bones wouldn’t be left behind.”

Why was he talking about this again instead of taking a hundred steps away from here? Oh, right, because he’s the only other Avengers here that wasn’t shell-shocked. _Dammit_. The Cap or Hawkeye would’ve been better for this; they were the trained soldiers and killers.

“Again, the intestines would still be ripped open and there would be bile spilled somewhere. Wherever I went inside, the only scent I could detect was blood. It’s too neat for slaughter.”

The last thing Tony would describe the room was _neat_ , but he supposed ‘Tasha had completely different memories to compare it to than Tony’s (and he was grateful his memory banks was nowhere close to hers in content). When he looked up, the redhead was staring into the room again, deep in thought. She was tapping her lips with two fingers.

“…he could’ve collected the blood on his own,” Tasha murmured.

“Have you _seen_ the amount of blood there?” Tony asked.

“I know,” she said, closing her eyes for a second. “No one can lose that much and not go into shock or just die on the spot. Still, it doesn’t have to be his blood.”

“Then whose is it? It’s not as if there were any butchers in Stark Tower that he could supply himself from. You said yourself that he can’t harm other people, so I’m not considering that as an option.”

She eyed him carefully. “How was the ward?”

“The whole tower ward? As much as I could check, it’s functional and it’s intact. I suppose I should be glad that we still have working defence against further magical attacks, but it doesn’t clarify anything for our case. How on earth did Loki get splattered, got taken out, without affecting the wards?”

She murmured something in Russian. Tony’s Russian was pretty decent (even if he pretended he couldn’t speak it more often than not), but eavesdropping people who were mumbling things rapidly were beyond him.

Also, he had the suspicion that it was closer to White Russian than the harsh and functional forms of modern-day Russian.

“But what?” Tony asked instead.

“Even the trapped wolf will gnaw its own leg to escape.”

Tony winced at the thought. “Why think that?”

“The cuffs are fragmented and thrown across the room. Some smaller pieces are embedded in the wall. The force required to do that is significant.” Tasha told him. “I found half a dozen of those shards embedded on the floor too at the explosion’s ground zero—there are bits of tissue there, this time. It’s still not enough for the whole pair.”

He sighed, looking even grimmer.

“That would be _worse_. That would’ve been like having a grenade throw metal bits at close range. As someone with shrapnel in their blood, I could say that it’s definitely Not Fun. All this reeks of desperation to me, but it’s not as if we’d bring him to certain death or unspeakable tortures.”

“So why would he do that?”

She shook her head. “We’re still missing something here and I don’t like it.”

‘-

“You’re back to Denver already?” Jane asked Banner through her cell phone. She could hear the irritation in his voice, not at her, but at the whole mess that just wouldn’t be done. It wasn’t difficult for Jane to sympathise with him. The helplessness that she felt whenever she accidentally heard the death toll rise was uncomfortable (she would be lying if she said she hadn’t been trying to avoid the news). She didn’t want to imagine how it was like for him.

“It’s alright, I’m not complaining. It’s just that I don’t think I can trust just anyone with what I found out, Bruce. No, I won’t say it over the phone either.” Darcy’s paranoia had rubbed off on her. She thought it was a good thing, most of the time. “Yes, _really_. I trust Pepper, but I need another pair of eyes to look over this, someone with the science background and is an Avenger.”

Silence reigned on the other side for several seconds. Jane didn’t blame him. He was thinking through the possibilities now, what sort of trouble she expected that she asked for those two specific traits. Jane sighed. She, on the other hand, thought it was too obvious, but she didn’t know how to hide her intent further. She wasn’t even that good with the whole tenure-track power plays, much less something on a larger scale. Jane wished Darcy could do this instead of her.

(But she had seen how her friend looked when Tony knocked on her door this morning; she had decided that she would give Darcy all the space she needed).

“Why do they need you there, anyway? I know there’s the epidemic and all that, thought your other degree was in biochemistry and not M.D.? Betty wasn’t exactly an M.D either, is she?”

“What? Why would they need all sorts of biologists?”

“…”

“I see. Some alien life forms were sighted? Alright, I—”

She gasped.

“Seriously? ‘Displaying incompatibility with earth-based biology’—are you saying they’re _toxic_? Oh, _no,_ _not_ toxic but only inciting extreme inflammation reaction that is contrary to patient history of hypersensitivity—Bruce, I’m not a biologist, but I still know that there are scary things you’re not outright saying. Look, pretend I never asked you about this, okay? They need you more over there.” Jane finished quickly before Bruce could try to argue with her. She knew how critical things were just from his description. The astrophysicist was pensive now.

“Still, about my work…”

Jane almost stood up.

“ _Tony?_ I wasn’t aware that he did high energy physics. At least _you’re_ still a nuclear physicist—”

She huffed as Bruce interrupted her, talking quickly but reasonably about how Tony knew more than enough about physics, especially when it comes to building machines that were supposed to detect exotic radiation or matter or create them—and speaking of the Bifrost, wasn’t Tony’s engineering background actually an advantage? Jane leaned back. “Alright. I suppose it would be better than waiting for who knows how long until it ends.”

The nice thing about talking to Dr. Banner was this; he was as wary of SHIELD as Jane was. She didn’t even need to spend more time than necessary to explain to anyone why she didn’t want to go to SHIELD as her first choice. When Bruce said someone was having seizures on the other side and at the very least he could help with the machines even if he wasn’t the right sort of doctor, Jane told him not to worry and that she was done. He could go off to help them. She closed the phone with the distinct feeling that she was lucky to have chosen to go into physics after all.

‘-

Thor woke up some time later to an empty bed with a soft sigh. He had not expected Jane to stay, for she had her work to do and she does not abandon her duty so carelessly, but he could not help but hope…

He walked out of the bedroom and was stupefied at what he saw.

The simplest way to say it was to say that the dining table was no more. It was Jane’s table now, if all the papers and pictures she had printed out and scattered all over the place was any indication. Her laptop was open in the middle, rallying others around its banner as their field commander—and indeed, it, like Jane, was the centre of the mess. Jane’s paper minions had even begun to creep on the surface of the chairs and there were sometimes a pile of them on the floor too, under the table. The petite astrophysicist was pushing up the glasses that were sliding down.

 Even with all the chaos around her, her determination only made her more beautiful. Her spirit had always been that of a fighter. He smiled.

“Jane, I thought you would be gone already.”

She almost jumped up from her seat at his voice. She saw him and lit up with such joy from within she surpassed the sun. She took her spectacles off and dropped them on the table. He did not know how she extricated herself from the disarray so easily without toppling anything over as she rushed to his side.

“Thor! Oh, you’re awake already?”

“I am.”

“Sit down on the…uh, couch, I think. I’m making some soup. It should be done some time soon.”

Thor could not help the look of amazement that crossed his face. Jane saw it before he changed it into anything else, her expression one of exasperation.

“I know, I _know_. You’re not sure whether I can cook, right?”

“Jane, I never meant—”

“It’s alright,” she said, waving something in her hands that he had missed before. “Soup is mainly about throwing ingredients in the pot in the right order and I have a timer to remind me when to throw the next stuffs in. I saw Darcy do it, it isn’t that hard, really.” She insisted. Thor wasn’t sure if he would even complain about it, as he mostly roasted game when in his travels.

Just as she finished speaking, the odd dial in her hand rang. Jane turned it off and rushed to the kitchen, tipping two bowls of chopped vegetables into the large pot and stirring all the while. He saw her scan the remaining ingredients before manually setting the dial again as she strode back to the living room. He saw that there were still bowls of chopped produce that lay idle in the kitchen, but concluded that it was not his affair—what did he know of cooking soups?

“There. Not that hard.”

“You are not in your lab?” Thor asked, even as he allowed Jane to gently steer him to the couch.

“Not all of the work I need to do has to be done in the lab,” Jane answered. She did not clarify the words, only walking over to the dining table to pick several sheets to read before she sat next to him, comfortably tucked under his arm. Thor found he had no reason to complain. He almost drifted to sleep again until he saw what Jane was sketching a landscape that was for all intents pristine and untouched by civilisation. It was arresting, but Thor knew enough that the appearance of beauty only guaranteed the dangers present to be well-hidden.

“Jane,” Thor asked, “what is that?”

She shrugged. “Oh, it’s just something I saw. The camera wouldn’t work, though, so I drew it.”

“You have a delicate touch and an artist’s eye.”

Jane blushed. “Thank you.”

“May I see it?”

‘-

Tony walked into Jane’s lab in the morning without bothering to hide his confusion. It wasn’t difficult—he was still bleary eyed from lack of sleep and Tony Stark had never been a morning person. It was made worse by how the Black Widow had dragged him out of bed before sunrise because she was paranoid enough to have a contingency plan for the most improbable possibility. He would’ve preferred to ignore it, but seriously, when did he ever back down from the impossible? _Never_. ‘Tasha would never let him live it down either if she was right. So he dragged his feet and carried a pot of coffee for himself everywhere.

He yawned and rubbed his eyes.

The astrophysicist was not by her computer. She was just standing next to the couch, the lab itself far neater than it usually was and because of that it looked less lived-in, less homey for some reason. The permanent frown she seemed to have gained overnight was uncomfortable to see.

“Okay, you messaged me about something important. Bruce messaged me that _you_ have something important and I’ve got a high priority email CC’d by two junior assistant researchers from something they sent to _you_ and no one seems to want to help me escape this meeting. Care to explain, Girl Genius?”

She was hugging her arms, a classic defensive posture. “I joined Stark Industries to continue my work on the anomalous folds in space-time, especially those on the microcosmic scale. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, go on.”

“How much of my reports did you read?”

“You suspect that _all_ anomalies are actually portals, not just some of them. It’s a worrying security matter if it was true, so we’ve agreed to pass that info on to SHIELD as well. Also, _earth rainbow bridge team for the win!_ ”

Jane nodded as if he hadn’t made the last outburst at all and she passed some printouts to Tony and he was mildly put out by how easily she ignored his eccentricities, though he supposed he shouldn’t actually complain about it. She pointed out to the passages that she’d highlighted.

“All anomalies _are_ portals. It’s been confirmed by those junior assistant researchers that some of those anomalies open to the _same planet_.”

Tony frowned. “You mean…”

“Yes. If the anomalies are random, what are the odds that any of them would link earth to the same planet? Out of all the many solar systems in our galaxy?” Jane’s voice was hitching as she rushed on. “Even if we use the anthropic principle and go on a wild, _wild_ , completely unfounded guess that the anomalies are related to intelligent life forms and thus eliminate gas giants, planets that are with substantially different atmosphere and gravity, and basically exclude anything not conducive to life as we know it—”

“—that’s still a bazillion planets.” Tony finished. He could see Jane twitching at the completely unscientific measure that he used but she managed to hold herself back.

“What are the odds that _five_ of them would be from the same planet?” Jane asked, rhetorically. Tony scoffed.

“Less than one to the number of grains of sands on earth.”

 “You see why I can’t trust the message on anything less than face to face, right?” She wrung her hands together. He nodded, mouth pressed into a thin line.

“So the anomalies aren’t random. Someone’s been opening them. Just _great_. Seems like the Avengers need to meet up again.” Tony’s mind was already going through the logistical contortions necessary to do it again. The location chosen would probably be nearer to Denver, he thought, what with Bruce, the Cap and Hawkeye being on more-or-less permanent basis there for the time being and nothing of note coming up around New York.

Jane tightened her hold on the next paper. To Tony’s surprise, it wasn’t a printout, it wasn’t even a notepad and it pricked at his curiosity like a wounded fox drew bloodhounds.

“That’s not the worst.”

He groaned. “Oh, I just _love_ it when someone says that. Because my life sure as hell isn’t interesting enough before.”

“Well,” Jane began with an uncertain smile, trying to lift his mood. “I have good news and bad news.”

Tony would’ve said that people usually have bad news and worse news when they say that, but he took pity on Jane’s nerves. She clearly wasn’t used to doing this. “Go ahead.”

“Good news, I managed to identify that planet. We could get into the technical details later.”

He took Jane’s sketch in his hand. It was a beautiful snowy landscape, serene and untouched. He had never thought of Dr. Foster as an artist before, but he could see raw talent there.

“Pretty,” Tony said. “Where is this, the Himalayas? Hmm, I don’t think the Everest is that pointy, though, so it had to be somewhere else. You recommending me to go on a holiday somewhere? Take a break from the fast life?”

She smiled easier when he said that, even if it was still weak.

“I sketched the mountain range that I saw in two of the anomalies. It was the _exact_ same range, I still remember it. That was how I first became certain that they’re all portals. I can’t seem to take a picture of things beyond the portals, so I tried recording it the traditional way.”

“Pencil and paper. Nice. So, when’s the unpleasant surprise coming?”

“Well, that jagged mountain you were talking about? Thor recognised it. _That_ ’s the Fang of Ymir. This planet is _Jötunheim_.”

“ _Shit!_ ”

‘-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yesss, we finally hit the stride of the story’s big action/adventure plot! This was the initial framework for the story when I came up with it. Who knew laying down the groundwork and building character interactions took this much effort?
> 
> On robots: I chose the term ‘robots’ since it’s the oldest term that’s close enough to the modern idea of artificial intelligence in artificial humanoid bodies (the word robotess came from the same source, of course, Karel Čapek’s play R.U.R). No one’s too confused by the dream sequence, right?
> 
> The appropriate soundtrack for the speakeasy scene would be the song _In Circles_ from the Original Soundtrack from the game Transistor. Conveniently for me, the singer of the song in-game is also known as Red.  
>   
> 
> The Weird and Wonderful Glossary:
> 
> **_Anthropic Principle_ :** In layman’s term, one of the main reason that the universe is the way we see it is because it has to fulfil the necessary conditions to support intelligent lifeforms. In other words, there is no way that the universe (or the phenomenon) we can observe is one that is harsh for intelligent life – the fact that we exist and can testify about it is an evidence against it.
> 
> **_Southside_ :** There are several cocktails called Southsides with slightly different names, but this one is named for Southside Chicago and the gangs that held the area during prohibition. Typically made with gin, lime, mint and simple syrup.


	22. XXII. Implosion, Portals and Doors, Part 2 (Dreams Dallied)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Included with the one on previous chapter)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting earlier than planned again. A bit on a roll with the changed schedule here.

### XXII. Implosion, Portals and Doors, Part 2 (Dreams Dallied)

The portal was successfully opened. All that was left was for Loki to cross over. This shouldn’t be difficult, right?

That was when the explosion hit. 

The God of Mischief couldn’t help but utter one of the most dangerous sentences that could be heard from a Practitioner of the Magical Arts in his mind. 

_Well_ , Loki mused, _I didn’t expect that_.

Anyone smart enough would duck when they hear that. Apparently, Loki wasn’t one of them. Not that it would’ve helped him in this case, but it might’ve been better than nothing.

Before we see the mess that he is currently facing, let us backtrack a little and see how this from this particular event came to pass.

There had never been any doubt to Loki that he’d need to do blood magic to escape, considering how magically unenlightened Midgard was. That the chalice will play a part in it was a plan that he came up with in the second he realised he was about to be caught was not difficult to conclude either. To rely on purely his own magical strength was idiotic when there are other much more substantial sources available, so it was also inevitable that with the chalice at hand capable of collecting, he’d absorb what little ambient magic was there to power his spell. 

He went a step further and ensured he could tap directly into the land itself by getting the _genius loci_ to approve him. It was not hard to understand how; you merely needed to convince the spirit of the land that you were honourable. This is done by always following the oldest rules of conduct. Courtesy has its uses when one studied something as arcane as theurgy and Loki was always good at fulfilling his contracts to the letter (even if not intent). He had waited until the time was best, as determined by when at least several planets in the system were aligned with Midgard. The barrier between worlds would be thin by then and portals take much less effort to make.

So, he planned on using the cup as focus to channel a combination of his own blood magic and gathered elemental theurgy at the appropriate time. The basic principles of his magical construction were theoretically sound.

In practise, things were a bit more…messy.

The land itself had assisted him in slipping under the wards of Stark Tower and his imprisonment chamber was useless without him inside it. His cuffs, though, were made from simpler spells that was not automatically nullified when he had negated his larger two bindings with the land’s approval. It needed more mechanical fiddling to get it off (fiddling that he forgot to do, at all). This resulted in a rather elementary and embarrassing mistake when he stepped into the open portal. A mistake that Loki was only too glad no one was ever going to find out in detail about. 

You see, the cuffs _exploded_.

_It’s the blood loss_ , he reasoned. _The sleep deprivation doesn’t help either_. Sleep deprivation would actually explain very well why he was underreacting to the sudden hail of shards. The larger fragments of the cuffs pelted him hard enough to bruise, but it wasn’t anything he wasn’t used to. It was the smaller ones that are more dangerous. At higher speeds, they scrape and cut. 

The smallest ones shot at speed close to hyper-velocity bullets.

He was quite certain he had at least two pieces in his liver. By the shortness of his breath, another had punctured his lung, though fortunately at a far corner that he could do his best to isolate the area temporarily with his magic before it began leaking air out and he had to scrabble partway across the galaxy with a _sucking chest wound_. He didn’t know where several others were and couldn’t be bothered to think about it right now. The cup half-filled with blood still held tight in his left hand as he forced himself to stride through the bone-stabbing cold of the in-between dimension and reach the other side. He had no time to pay attention to the swirl of colours or the shifting ground and not-ground under him when all he could think was _exit_.

Real, actual cold that came from the snow greeted him on the other side and tension leaked from his shoulder. Wind whipped past his hair, the forest around him but a dark blur to his strained eyes. He could’ve walked straight into a snowstorm and he couldn’t be happier. Better than the Void’s cold.

A few steps after he exited, he lost his footing and fell. Blood bloomed on the snow under him, a bed redder than roses red fit for a prince lost in enchanted sleep. Groaning, he righted the cup again. There was only about a quarter of the blood left there now. He had to keep moving. Time was of the essence. He had to find…

Who was he trying to find, again?

His mind was hazy. For some reason, his errant thought only remembered the scent of gardenias in summer and it summoned an azure scarf from his extra dimension. Its ends danced in the wind in his right hand and it was protectively wrapped around his wrist, strangely untouched by the spreading crimson except for where he was clutching it. Even that only seeped for a few moments before it was absorbed away in a soft purple glow—and then the scarf was pristine once more. 

‘-

There were two cops in uniform looming around and generally looking intimidating outside the door of _The Two Queens_ , the club she ran with her friend. A picture of two playing cards hung over the entrance. 

Darcy walked out before the cops could do much harm—she damn well won’t let them scare the customers. 

Their excuse was ‘watchin’ out for shady characters’. She gave them her best saccharine smile and told them they could watch people better inside. The redneck on the left looked like he was going to take her up on it if his partner didn’t glare at him. Not that his partner wasn’t thinking much of the same.

_Why, what have you heard, officer?_

_We have some suspicion of acts of unnatural perversion, Ma’am_

Darcy made sure her smile didn’t waver, even if it turned more plastic. The feathered snake around her neck watched them with a predatory eye and she acted as if she hadn’t seen them take a step back for it. Beyond the law-speak, she translated it to ‘a robot and a human are getting cosy and we dun like it’.

_Someone who might be visiting here? Oh, you should_ definitely _come in, officers! You won’t catch them outside and would just scare them away. You see, if you sit at that corner from the bar, people can’t see you well but you can see_ everyone _. If you know any lawbreakers ruinin’ the reputation of my joint, I’d be thankful if you could point them out to me so I can have a word with them._

While she was chatting cheerfully, she easily situated herself between them, hands gently laid over hers and their height difference ensuring that they could see down her neckline with only a glance away. The stuttering of the cop to her left told her that he just did. Using their daze to pull them with her into the club (and deposit them somewhere harmless) was child’s play. It wasn’t as if they were going to ignore a lady’s distress at the thought of possible perversions going on under her roof, were they? 

It was really hard keeping her voice straight when she said that.

The bumbling fools complied easily. She thanked them by giving their first drink on the house and left, leaving them no chance to decline—she knew their faces and names, kept tabs on who the idiots and zealots were on the force. These men would gladly drink and pretend they didn’t know what was in it. 

Of course, it had gone on too smoothly for too long and somebody set something on fire backstage. Darcy ran but not without rolling her eyes at that. 

When she returned to the floor a familiar face had appeared at a secluded corner of the bar, his scarf an unusual shade of azure. It was not really a favoured place, as the lighting was very dim there, and yet he chose it for his spot. _Number 19_ always reserved it for him—Darcy had no idea how he built his rapport with the robotess. 

Loki’s three-piece suit was darker than shadows and sharp enough to cut the innocent and unwary. His smile was the finest snare spun of desires and it widened slightly when he saw her approach.

He didn’t expect the slap, looked completely indignant about it as he caught her hand in his afterwards.

_That was for the brawl here. Last month the snoopers swarmed the place and even got it closed for some time!_ Darcy was fuming. He looked affronted at the accusation.

_Thor started that one_.

_And Jane’s ex found her all the way_ here _on his own?_ She dared him to treat her like an idiot. He leaned back instead, and for all the nonplussed expression he had, his green eyes were laughing. 

_The feds had a hard time catching him_ , Loki replied instead, _and now he’s out of the way_.

She scoffed. _And you did it out of the goodness of your heart?_

He gave her no answer for that but for that smug look she itched to wipe off his face and she hadn’t expected one anyway. _It’s convenient for your business too, isn’t it?_

_Convenient for you too. His associates would give some_ friendly _warning once they open their own joint_.

She rolled her eyes. _I could take care of myself_.

_I know. As you say, why would I do anything without gain to myself?_ He waved it away, uncaring.

_Business as usual, then_ , Darcy commented.

_Don’t take it personally_.

She scoffed at that and he smirked. She didn’t thank him and he offered no apologies, but the air was calmer around them now. He still hadn’t let go of her wrist and pulled her closer to him. She didn’t resist and stopped even closer than he intended her to be, a little too close for his peace of mind. 

It was exactly what she intended to do.

_You wore my favour_ , he said. She couldn’t understand his quiet tone as he stared at her snake-slash-feather-boa. The black serpent coiled around her comfortably.

She shrugged. _Why not? I bet I’m the only one here to wear a literal feather boa when everyone else has fakes_.

She was grateful it was dark here because she didn’t want him to see the colour of her cheeks. It was hard not to suspect he had night vision from the way his eyes were fixed on her. ( _This was so unfair_.)

Lucky for her, he merely seemed confused. Now _that_ was familiar—she saw that particular expression more often than anything in the faces of the people speaking to her.

Her eyes adjusted to the shade and the cuts on his cheek and a gash above his left eyebrow became obvious. So _of course_ she touched it, tracing the wounds she could see. His scarf seemed pleased with her approach and reached out to her. She blinked. In a moment of clarity she saw a long-ish critter with dark fur over his shoulders that felt oddly familiar (weasel? Ferret? Mink?) It parted for her. Its warm brown eyes recognised her authority and it butted its cute little head into her palm, ignoring Loki’s annoyance at what he muttered was traitorous behaviour to its current owner. 

She saw red lines marking his neck that was previously hidden then. Scratches.

It was hard not to wonder about the wounds she couldn’t see. She loudly cursed how he and his brother were both careless rampaging idiots that way when they get into fights ( _and who cares if he hates any apparent similarity between him and Thor? He deserved the comparison she was making this time._ ) She missed his eyes growing darker.

_What the hell did you get into, Lo—_

He kissed her and the longing he hoarded from mere words spilled forth. 

It was there in the way his arm curved closely over her backside, or how his kiss was so desperate that she couldn’t stop herself from reacting fully to his proximity and welcoming him back. His distinctly male scent had echoes of a dark, dark forest in it and it went straight to her head with his presence. Darcy opened herself to him and he kept her close enough to melt himself into her. 

Her voice was hoarse when she spoke. 

_We shouldn’t do this here…_

_Why not?_

He held the back of her head and pulled her into his kisses. She gladly consumed him while he did the same to her. The sounds of unexpected pleasure she drew out from him was teasing her control apart.

Darcy skittered her hand down his waistcoat, merrily committing his chest to memory. Buttons were plucked open and her palm laid over his shirt. His encouragement was clear on the lips over her jaw and the hand that was lifting the hem of her dress – warm and inviting over her thigh and her throat went dry. She felt she ought to complain about the liberties he was taking on principle, in a mostly public space, but couldn’t give a damn about it now.

Hands pushed his waistcoat open, fingers caught a wetness that felt _wrong_ and Darcy froze. Loki caught her hesitation and she used it to maintain their distance before he could reel her in once more with his kisses. There was a whiff of crushed roses though it vanished as quickly as it came.

Even in the low light she could see her hand glistening red. She stared in horror at the stains she could now see as splashing over his white shirt, the dark, ever-shifting shadows of his waistcoat and coat hiding it before.

He sighed. He closed his eyes for a moment as his expression remained frustratingly blank. 

_There was no need for you to look_.

_Oh yes there is, buster! What, or who, did you mess with?_

She gripped him before he could slip away as easily as a sea snake in the ocean of people. Darcy held his arm secure against her body. Navigating the borders of the dancing crowd was something she could do with her eyes half-closed, a smuggler edging to her cove. He followed her up a flight of stairs with uncharacteristic lack of complaint and the seeds of worry grew in her. A door that did not look like a door hid in plain sight at the end of the hallway and she instinctively knew how to open it. They slipped out of sight into the room.

It was a spartan bedroom, with a bed that was unusually wide for one and not easy enough for two and she sat him there over the covers.

_Off with the coat. Now. The waistcoat goes too_. She glared at him before he could give an innuendo- laden reply. He let out an annoyed sigh to demonstrate his vexation, but he did as he was bid. The purplish scarf was left curled up on a pillow. Darcy took one look at the wounds and gouges on pale flesh and covered her face with her hand. She took a deep breath before opening her eyes once more.

_How are you still walking around?_

She congratulated herself on not yelling the question. She was very tempted to.

_You should stop treating me like a human_. 

Ice suffused his tone and Darcy huffed. She never really did that anymore—how many people wore a coat of smoke and shadows? There was no doubt that she was worried, though, and yet she knew he’d only mock her for her concern so she left it unvoiced.

_Alright, what do I need to do?_

She thought there was uncertainty in his eyes, but it might just be him being unused to showing weakness to anyone. 

_Nothing_.

Her wandering took her to the small bathroom, looking for a basin to use for hot water. She ignored his words. _What were the wounds from? Any bullets left behind inside?_

_There might be pieces, yes_. His answer was reluctant. She went hunting for tweezers and bandages and all the usual shit she had somehow accumulated over time for when Loki dropped in. It was inevitable; he was more often than not involved in a mess. 

(If he isn’t, he’s bored, and though boredom could have _pleasant_ consequences for her, sometimes it just means he would be up to something in her club in the next few days. It was worse than babysitting a toddler sometimes—a toddler with a penchant for chaos doesn’t have anything on his scheming ability. It really should worry her that he gets on so well with the goblins).

When he had taken his shirt off and she was poking into his wound with tweezers, they were both sitting on the grassy green carpet in front of the boiler in the room.

_I would be alright even if you didn’t do this_ , Loki said between the times when he wasn’t gritting his teeth and pretending it didn’t hurt _that_ much. She couldn’t help but snort at that. _Someone is looking for me_.

_Really?_ She asked, all sarcasm. _You’d be fine after that lake of blood you left in your room? Could you imagine how_ I _felt when I saw that? I thought you’d be in more pieces!_

He paused at those words and his eyes sharpened and he caught her in his gaze. His fingers mapped her eyes and forehead with unexpected delicacy; she forgot the tweezers she’d just placed on the enamelled bowl along with the shards she’d taken out. He drew her face very close to his and his tone was that used to soothe skittish wildlife.

_Why did you say that?_ He asked slowly.

_Say what?_

_You mentioned a ‘lake of blood’. What did you_ see _, Darcy?_

The room flickered and for a moment she saw a room where the floor was not wood planks and the bed was not wrought iron. The window seemed impossibly large and seamless, but what caught her attention and held it easily was the blood on the floor, its surface occasionally gleamed silver. The wave rose up, some sliding around her ankles and all intent on pulling her underwater. Her breath caught in her throat, but Loki held her before she could step back and the vision was no more.

_It can’t harm you_.

They were still sitting on the shag carpet as he put his arms around her; the feel of his bare skin was distracting. She drew back because she remembered she hadn’t finished binding his wounds. Yet he wasn’t pleased the least about her singular focus when she wrapped the bandages.

_This doesn’t matter_ , he insisted.

_Of course it matters!_ She snapped, easily backing away again after he caught her in a sweet short kiss. She wasn’t sure whether it was a bribe or a distraction. _It’s your blood, isn’t it? And that’s one heck of a spill. How much do you need to replace?_

_I’m here, aren’t I?_

It would’ve calmed her, should easily have calmed her, except there was a nagging feeling she couldn’t dismiss at the back of her head that she forgot something important. Darcy truly opened her eyes. In his next kiss, she almost caught the fragrance of asphodel. Tears spilled from her eyes as she drew away again. As she stroked the snake around her neck without thought, snowy fields spread out in front of her, curving oddly upwards and away from them akin to the insides of a snow globe. Pine forests ringed the far edges. Loki sat on a bed of blood-red roses, petals shimmering with silver and their details but a red smear when she stared at them. The roses were echoed in faint silvery lines over her arms. Her flowers, though, had slowly turned the colours of amethyst and plum.

She didn’t stop him from taking her left arm with interest as he stared at the pattern there. His usually cool skin was even colder now. It was hard to stop herself from yelping when he licked the inside of her wrist. His expression was exploring and curious while she shivered, his tongue impossibly long. He laved upwards towards the inside of her elbow and she felt the bottom of her stomach drop as she whimpered. Darcy clenched her hands to stop herself from just leaning forward and pull him close.

_What on earth, Loki?_

_Ssshh, I’m trying to identify the taste. It’s magic, yes, but_ which _?_

His clothes were a king’s funerary garb, complete with gold bands over his arms and a torc on his neck. His skin uncommonly pale while the open wounds on his torso gaped back at her. The mink(?) looked sad as it curled around his neck protectively as snow fell around them; it was valiantly trying to keep Loki warm. Light played tricks on its fur, seemingly dark bluish purple from one side and purplish blue from another. 

They were on a snow white longboat stacked with pine firewood on his side. He gazed at the stick in her right hand without a comment.

Darcy staggered back and threw away the torch in horror when she saw what she was holding. The flame sputtered in the snow. ( _What? Was someone expecting her to incinerate him? What the_ hell _?_ )

She saw a mountain range in the distance with one familiar serrated peak standing higher than the rest. It filled her with a sense of foreboding.

_Loki, what did you do to yourself? What have you done?_

He grabbed both of her hands in his, trying to stop her from moving away and his lips thinned into a line. A large cup filled with blood stood upright not far; as she stared, the viscous liquid floated out in a long trail and formed a ring _in the air_ around them. Loki drew her to him. He pressed his cheek against hers and his breathing was harsh in her ear. His pain was too loud for her to ignore, and as she drew away to look him in the eye, to assess the harm he’d suffered—

He sighed instead. _It must be my fortune to come up with an accurately stubborn Darcy. Can’t I have a nice dream just this once_? 

Why was he staring at her while he said that? She didn’t like how worn he seemed, worn enough that he wasn’t even faking nonchalance.

_What?_

_This_ , he poked the holes on his stomach and she winced, _doesn’t really hurt right now, Darcy. Don’t mind it. Now, can you stop_ worrying _and get over here?_

Someone tapped her shoulders and she turned, back on the edge of the dance floor, alone once more. She wiped the tears from her cheeks. The background noise of the club was soothing; this was her place and she in her element. Even the tall, imposing stranger in a fur coat in front of her worried her not. She could feel the eyes of her friends and employees passing on her from time to time. Sarah was somewhere at the other side of the room, her gaze supportive. A blink and she lost sight of her friend again to the dancers.

_Am I interrupting something?_ The looming visitor asked. He tapped his stick on the ground to punctuate the question. He was severe, but not unkind. 

His skin was blue and his eyes were a deep shade of pink. She would’ve said his eyes were a cute colour if she wasn’t worried that he’d take it as an insult.

_Oh no, not at all. What’s up?_

_I seem to be lost. I require directions_. There was an undefined accent to his voice, as gravelly and unmoveable as rocks.

_O…kay? Shoot._

_Do you know where the Liesmith is?_

It was a good thing she’d known Loki’s aliases to recognise that. The guest stared straight ahead at her, right above her head. He didn’t follow her movements or reacted to the way she stiffened. 

_Why would you be looking for him?_

_He needs me to pull him out or he’ll gradually weaken and die_. He said simply. _Unless you do wish him to die, then I suppose I would need to ask someone else who can show me the way_.

He spoke of Loki’s death with no more concern than a grocery trip. It unnerved her, but there was a blessing to his indifference; at the very least she didn’t think he was Loki’s enemy. Not that it was assuring to know the person who wanted to help Loki couldn’t even give a damn about it.

_Will you guide?_ He asked again, now staring at her. Yet something was still off about his gaze.

This was when she truly observed the walking stick he was holding, well-loved and often used. When she raised her head again and tried to meet his gaze, she’d realised that his sight was troubled. Heck, he might be blind for all she knew.

_Will you help him?_ She asked instead.

_Are you deaf? I said I’d pull him out, didn’t I?_ His reply was brusque.

She rolled her eyes. _Yes I can show you the way and can you_ not _be such an ass? People don’t want to help you that way!_

_I have said all that needs to be said. You were digressing. I do not like or need pointless digressions_.

It was hard not to huff at that. Here goes a _nother_ stick-in-the-backside type. Why did she keep running into them?

_Well I need to know that you’re not going to harm him!_

_If I wish to harm him, woman, I would do nothing. With his wounds, he would not survive a week in the wilds._ His reply was so clinical she wanted to just leave him be to sort his own mess. _He is lucky I have need of him right now_.

Yet the truth was undeniable. Loki wasn’t in a good condition. The guest made his point about not needing to put in this much effort if he was there just to kill the wayward prince.

_Urgh, fine. Be that way_.

Darcy moved and she could hear his stick tapping the floor as he followed her steps.

They followed the east wall and he trailed her all the way to the back. She passed Sarah at one point, hugged the other brunette and told her in low voice that she was still fine to calm her friend enough to leave her be. 

_No need to worry about the guy behind me – he’s looking for someone else._

Sarah’s reply was sharp. _Because_ of course _he couldn’t harm you if he’s looking for someone else._

_Exactly!_ Darcy blithely replied. 

_The ditz act wasn’t cute the first time you did it and it still isn’t now_. Sarah drew back from their hug slightly to give her a pointed look but Darcy’s smile was bulletproof and it held under scrutiny. Her friend took a deep breath and nodded with reluctance.

_Fine_. _Go ahead, but I_ will _drop in if there are explosions_.

Darcy snorted. _There won’t_ be _any explosions or fire. We don’t need fire inspectors here_ again _. Do you remember how much bribe we needed to get last time around, even when we actually_ passed _the fire code?_

_Be careful._

_I will._ She nodded back to her co-proprietor and moved on. 

Natasha was eyeing her with concern from the stage, but Darcy grinned back and waved and the redhead accepted that to mean that she was okay. Darcy guided him past the thronging performers, the few off-shift waiters to the back offices once more, dodging people and potted plants equally. The brunette side-stepped several goblins and a robotess deftly lifted Darcy aside as easily as she would shift a vase as a crowd of performers moved forward. Darcy didn’t even blink at the casual display of strength. She and her guest had to stand to the side for a moment before continuing on their way. 

Despite the gaggle of conversation and people around them, they could hear each other clearly.

_You could at least give me your name_. Darcy complained.

_You did not ask_.

Her visitor seemed to have fewer problems as his height enabled him to move with all the intent of a battering ram. People either gave him way or ran straight into him—and bumping into a seven foot something giant of a man was going to be more painful for most.

_I’m asking now. Name’s Darcy, Darcy Lewis, and I own this joint_.

Something odd happened when she said her name; more than one voice spoke overlapped with hers. They were softer and not always audible, but she was quite sure they weren’t even saying the same word. Yet that was the only time it happened—her voice sounded normal much more normal after that. _Huh, what was that about?_

The huge man behind her was silent for a while.

_Hello?_

_I suppose it’s a fair price for your assistance. People call me All-blind. Remember it well, little mortal_. It didn’t sound like a real name and closer to Loki’s alias, but she wasn’t going to quibble.

_You_ could _use my name, y’know? Darcy. My name’s_ Darcy. She could almost hear the echoes-that-were-not with her utterance, softer than it was before, but she ignored them.

_You are mortal, aren’t you? And small? What’s the difference?_ He asked. She could hear genuine disinterest from him and Darcy groaned. Were all aliens so _weird_?

_Well, I happen to_ like _my name. I don’t care if you don’t actually like_ yours.

_I’m not sure I could have chanced on someone more foolish,_ he grumbled, _even if I searched for the whole of the Nine Realms for the winner of the village idiot contest._

_Hey!_

When she glanced back at him, she thought she saw him blue and bare-chested, walking with a tall staff in his right hand in the snow. The image vanished and she was guiding a fur-coated stranger from Russia once more, following her up a flight of creaky stairs of a club she owned. For all her worries about the old floorboards, his steps never missed. She glared at him and he stared ahead at her general direction unintimidated.

_Have you no teachers? Have you been running wild on your own like savages? Even the svartálvar are not so brainless to leave the talented untutored!_ His accusations threw her off.

_What’s that supposed to mean? You dissin’ my species?_ She snapped. He paused, regulating his breathing. She had the feeling that maybe he was counting to ten in his head so as to not accidentally flick a finger and crack a rib of her fragile mortal self.

_I gave you my name to know and treasure, not use freely. You should also have a care with yours_.

_…what?_

_Your name, girl!_ _Be mindful of your name!_ The visitor raised his voice in vexation and Darcy retreated to ensure her back was to the wall (and he couldn’t shove her off the stairs by accident). The entire stairway _shook_ when he roared and the walls behind her vibrated. The people passing in the hallway below them scuttled back in the other direction when they heard him booming above them with the force of loosed thunder. She shrank back from his shark-like teeth without thinking. It was an uncomfortable reminder of how he could easily tear her apart if he so choose.

_Do not use or give it lightly when you are walking the in-between unless you can be sure you are in the privacy of your own mind! And even not then! Who knows who is eavesdropping? Do you want to allow every random Fastvi, Úlfrún, or Thórgunna to be able to bind you, you unflowered suckling?!_

For some reason her brain attached itself easily to the last insult. 

_Hey, I’ll have you know that I’m a properly flowered suckling! Do these boobs tell you nothing? Not to mention that I’m really good at sucking!_ She yelled back, before immediately clamping her mouth shut in mortification. Dammit. She hated her lack of brain to mouth filter sometimes.

It had to be her bad luck that his laughter shook the planks as much as his yells and frightened just as many people. When he was done, he stared in her general direction again and was calm enough that she didn’t decide that running away was the better option.

_Let me see you, little mortal_.

She didn’t understand what he meant until he passed his walking stick to his left hand and reached out with his right, the hand searching the air.

_See?_

_Your face, with my hand. I wish to remember you_. _You, who glow with magic but isn’t even aware of it, are a curiosity._

She gingerly took a step forward, feeling his large calloused fingers carefully settle themselves over her skin. For a hand so large he actually moved it with steady grace. As he reached her neck, her feather boa hissed, and before she could do anything, _bit_. Darcy struggled to pull the serpent away.

_Sorry! I didn’t know it would do that—I absolutely don’t even know he can do_ that _. Please don’t blame him, he’s not housebroken yet!_

He was smiling again. It was a scary smile with all the pointed teeth. _I know. I was merely curious. You should keep better control over him before someone less generous tears him into pieces_.

Darcy gave the snake a sharp rap on the head and stern telling to, promising that she will leave the snake behind if it couldn’t _behave_. She kept scolding it like an errant child even as it sulked. For some reason the visitor was chuckling once more though it was sounding freakishly close to a growling bear. She had to hold her hands together to quell the urge to just _scram_. All-Blind spoke again.

_I think I understand why he finds your company… interesting_.

‘-

Darcy woke up in the morning with more unrest than she had before she slept and the horny sensation of unfinished business. She growled. She couldn’t even remember enough of the last part of the dream to recall the fun bits! Just the miserable feeling of being hot and bothered. As she unclenched her uncomfortable left hand, she found she had been holding Loki’s snake pin to sleep again—it was somehow comforting. She also couldn’t help staring at her arms and somehow expecting to see amethyst-hued roses on them, but there was nothing.

_Of course there’s nothing, Darce. What did you think you did last night? End up at a tattoo studio drunk?_ She scoffed, getting up.

_Seriously, though, why purple roses?_

Oddly enough, she could recall their scent. Details of her dream disappear whenever she squinted too hard at them, but she remembered running her own speakeasy and there were people she knew in there and…

( _Loki on a funeral pyre waiting for her to light it_ ).

…her mind shied away from the last part of the dream and she was too spent to think about it right now. Darcy wasn’t sure where roses painted on her arms were related to all that and yet the feeling that there was something on her skin would not leave her as she went to the bathroom, giving interesting tingles on occasion. The tingling stayed as she took breakfast and walked without thought to the lab. Darcy had pinned the wrought snake biting its own tail securely to her coat without a second thought. 

When the doors opened, there was no surprise that Jane was already in the lab. What she didn’t expect was how Jane seemed _unhappy_ at the sight of Darcy.

“Why are you here?” Jane asked.

“What, I _can’t_ be here?” Darcy bristled. Jane stared at her weirdly before something lit up her eyes and she walked around from her table looking alternately apologetic and pitying. Darcy didn’t expect it at all that she stared just as confusedly back.

“Oh, I’m an _idiot_. I didn’t mean it that way, Darce. I mean, why aren’t you resting? You should take the day off. Tony was right—you look awful and you need time to process what happened yesterday.”

“Nothing to do at home anyway,” Darcy said, avoiding Jane’s path as she picked up the pile of weather reports she hadn’t gone through. The scientist creased her forehead as she watched her friend go.

“You keep telling me about all the interesting shows you want to watch—”

“Jane,”

“—so why not do that while you take a day or two off?”

“Jane, please don’t send me away.” Darcy said. It was soft, but her voice didn’t waver. It was the sort of certainty that people jump from bridges with and was frightening in its own way. Jane waited, perhaps for some sort of explanation but none was going to come. What was there to say, anyway? That she couldn’t bear to be alone at her apartment for now because it would inevitably remind her of Loki _?_ That would’ve raised more questions she wasn’t interested in answering, mostly because she didn’t know the answers to many of them anyway. Jane sighed.

“O _kay_ , but if I see you about to topple over, I’m sending you back right that second, got it?”

“Yep, got it, Boss-Lady.”

She collected her own set of papers and forms, adeptly dodging Jane’s path once more. Jane was left in an awkward mid-step in the middle of the room with her arms flapping down gracelessly as she failed to get close enough to Darcy to hug. The astrophysicist huffed in frustration at her stubbornness, choosing to back down for now.

“I _mean it_ , Darcy.”

“I know, Jane. I know. Now, where are those reports?”

She clapped her hands together with determination as she set off to her current task. For a fleeting moment, they _glimmered_. (And so did the dark silver snake pinned over her collar bone). 

‘-

“Ha! There they are! You’re just who we were looking for!”

Tony Stark rolled into the lab in his Iron Man suit and a gadget of sorts in his hands and a backpack of…some portable machine whatever, as Darcy clearly had no idea. The Black Widow followed closely beside him with a similar gadget of her own (also plugged into Tony’s backpack-machine). They were slowly scanning the whole room with the dish attached to it. Darcy was pretty certain the gadget was a detector—beeps from the thing that came in increasingly closer intervals seemed to support her guess. 

Jane looked up in confusion while her assistant only rolled her eyes. 

“Anything wrong, Tony?” the scientist asked.

“Yeah, why are we getting a ghostbuster house call?” Darcy commented. The beeping became more insistent as Tony pointed the gadget’s dish in their direction. Curious, Natasha did the same with hers.

Tony glanced at the detector in his hand and laughed. 

“I do look like a ghostbuster, don’t I?”

Jane had approached him with hyper-focused hazel eyes. “Is that a _Geiger counter_?”

“No it isn’t,” Tony insisted, but he hadn’t backed away in time and Jane was holding the detector in her hands, refusing to let go.

“It _is_. I know my hardware, Tony,” Jane muttered, more absorbed with the machine than the man in front of her. Tony rolled his eyes.

“It _used_ to be a Geiger counter. That’s the basis, yes, but I made something else. Had to take one half of it apart and used up several other stuff for modification. There’s a pacemaker and Raspberry Pi motherboard somewhere in there and a couple other stuff.” It was beeping rather annoyingly as it was pointed in Jane’s direction and Tony muted it with a sigh.

“Hmm, yes, even a high-schooler can see that from three metres away,” the petite scientist said, unimpressed. Darcy thought she saw a smirk pass Natasha’s lips as Tony pouted from Jane’s lacklustre reaction as she fiddled with the dish further. “Let me see what else you’ve done to it to know what it’s supposed to do. Wait, you’re right, this _isn’t_ a Geiger counter.”

“I said that already,” he sighed with long-sufferance.

“I mean that in the sense that a Geiger counter is passive…this is active, isn’t it? It sends probing waves out—this is closer to a radar or ladar than a Geiger counter. It would explain the power source you need to carry there,” Jane observed, following the thick cable from the detector all the way to the machine on Tony’s back. His face was an odd blend of impressed and annoyed that Darcy simply marked as ‘five days constipated’. 

“That all you can find so far, First Contact?” Tony asked.

“I’m _still_ looking,” Jane huffed, staring hard, willing it to give up its secrets. 

“It’s a magic detector,” Natasha spoke up before the territorial marking ritual between two tinkerers could gain full steam. Darcy didn’t hide her chuckle-snort when Tony _and_ Jane looked betrayed by her interference. The agent’s expression stayed completely bland.

“Now that we know what that is and that it does work since it’s gone through several tests devised by Dr. Strange, can we move on to the reason we’re here in the first place?” The redhead gave Tony a cool stare so that he’d get on with the program. For all his disappointed sighs and slouching, he did just that as he turned to the astrophysicist.

“It seems that your involvement with the Convergence has left you with significant residual traces of magic,” Tony began. “And after last night’s splashy event—” 

“ _Tony_ ,” Natasha firmly reminded. She saw how Darcy’s jaw tightened.

“—we thought we wanted to identify all significant traces of magic in the tower that we can find. Look, Red, that’s the best I could come up with at a moment’s notice! If you have a problem with that, _you_ handle the explaining!” Tony complained to Natasha. The Black Widow stepped up next to her fellow Avenger.

“It’s better to keep track of them right now and get Strange to check them all later and see whether it’s dangerous or not,” The agent said calmly. Jane took a deep breath and sighed as she returned the detector to Tony. She seemed to have lost her appetite to see how it works for now.

“I was pretty sure I received a check-up with a healer in Asgard after that,” Jane said.

Tony shrugged; his smile was a little awkward. “The detector doesn’t lie, though.”

Jane stared at Tony and then Natasha, trying to find something in their faces. Maybe she was desperately hoping that this was all just one of Tony’s pranks, but even the billionaire wasn’t laughing.

“It might not mean anything,” Tony tried again, yet Jane’s shoulders slumped all the same and she did not take comfort in his platitudes. That was the problem with preferring the truth to its pale imitations; Darcy could feel its weight across her own heart as readily as Jane felt it in hers—once you’ve heard it, you cannot hide away or pretend you didn’t know. It doesn’t work that way.

“It never actually ends, does it?” Jane asked with a thin voice.

Natasha was far more sympathetic than most would ever think her able to. In that one second, she could see that there were many things in the agent’s past that continued to haunt her even now. _Probably trying to pull her underneath_ her _lake of blood_ , a thought slipped past Darcy. It scared her because she didn’t exactly know where it came from, or why she also saw a bed of crimson roses in a field of snow instead of just the mess in Loki’s apartment.

“No, no it doesn’t. But we do it anyway because we think what we do is worth the sacrifices. Isn’t that right, Dr. Foster?” Natasha asked.

Jane’s smile wasn’t any happier yet, but it was stronger. “You’re right. Some things are worth it.”

Tony let out a barely noticeable sigh. 

“Now, let us just recalibrate these and get a full scan from you—”

He swung the arm holding the detector out to loosen a tangled part of its cable and a sudden high-pitched screech rent the air. Tony turned around rapidly, but Natasha finished assessing her environment faster. She landed from her leap right in front of Darcy who froze on the spot. The redhead turned her detector to the assistant but muted it as everyone else tensed in waiting.

The concerned gaze the assassin gave Darcy scared her more than anything. It was indescribably old and was almost _motherly_. (For the first time ever the brunette allowed herself to wonder when Natasha Romanova was born. Some of the records of her involvement that Darcy could find was all the way from the _1950s_ ).

“Her contamination is two orders of magnitude higher than Dr. Foster’s,” Natasha reported. The room was so quiet she could’ve whispered that and Darcy would still hear her.

“ _What?_ ” Tony turned sharply as Jane was shaking her head and speaking rapidly.

“But that’s impossible! She wasn’t even with me during that time. I don’t think it’s possible for her to—” 

“Can somebody speak using _gorram_ small _words_?” Darcy yelled above them all. All that exercise to develop the muscles on her chest to avoid back pain due to her boobs proved their worth. All the swimming meant she could power a pair of lungs and she wasn’t afraid to use it.

“We found residues of magic on you,” Natasha began. 

“And it’s arounda _hundred_ times the concentration we’d found on Girl Genius here,” Tony finished.

Darcy quickly rolled up her sleeves, ignoring the three pairs of eyes on her. She wanted to make sure that she hadn’t been imagining things.

“What are you doing?” Tony asked.

There wasn’t any sign that she’d been listening, too intent on staring at her skin. _Any moment now_ , she thought. She could feel the charge tickling just underneath the skin, rolling, moving, and ebbing away. But it would not be permanent; they always build up. When they build up…

Darcy thought she saw a small spark at the corner of her eyes and that spark became the focus of a passing wave of oddly shimmering air over skin (or was it _on_ the skin itself? She couldn’t tell). From the way Jane gasped, she knew it was real. Here and now, she could see that it was silvery, but if she closed her eyes and _feel_ she knew she’d feel the colour _purple_. It didn’t make sense, but that was the only meaning she found.

“I _knew_ I wasn’t imagining things,” Darcy said bitterly and she rolled her sleeves down once more. 

“Darcy…” Jane started, aghast.

“Could we have this conversation later? I don’t think I’m done processing it now. It’s like, I _know_ what happened but my brain’s taking a temporary break from all this magic crap and all I can think now is roses.” Darcy said staring back at everyone else with shadowed eyes. 

“Roses?”

“Yeah. Roses. A faint tattoo of a bunch of purple roses covering my arms might look cool. Not as obvious as a tattoo sleeve but still pretty on a closer look. One moment you see it and then you don’t. Or maybe it would be weird enough that I want to strip it away from the skin? _With_ the skin? Wait, actually, I forgot what my last opinion on it was.” 

She was too spent to care about the occasional odd stare. She spoke up again on something less strange to unnerve them less. “I want to go back to my apartment and sleep. Jane, I guess I’ll be taking that leave you offered after all.”

Jane agreed easily. “Of course, go right ahead.”

Natasha exchanged glances with Tony. 

“I’m sorry Lewis, but we’d need to run another test on you before we could let you rest for the day. It won’t take that long,” he said. Darcy folded her arms in front of her chest.

“But it would still be pretty long, you mean?”

There was something wrong when even Tony Stark looked that apologetic. _What was this, ‘let’s pity Darcy day’?_ Natasha stepped forward.

“We’re trying to ensure that no one is suffering from adverse effects of mental contamination,” the redhead stated.

“ _Mental_ contamination _?_ Sorry, I just had to ask, how did you guys came across the idea?” She asked. _Damn, this isn’t a joke at all. They all look like doctors trying to pass the buck on breaking the ‘congratulations, you have cancer!’ news_. This was giving her uncomfortable flashbacks to the time her father fell badly sick the first time around.

“Guys?”

Natasha moved with deliberate slowness. Darcy didn’t stop her from touching her right arm. Her voice was calm but brooked no argument. “Darcy, I think you’d want to sit down for this.”

‘-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A wild Loki appears! 
> 
> Gratuitous Old Norse* will be found from this chapter onward.
> 
> Are there hints in recent chapters that Natasha is older than she looks? Yes, yes there are. No more spoilers for now. To be frank, my take on her history absorbs elements from the comic verse that I find more interesting. The image of All-Blind I have in my head is played by Johnny Lee Miller for some reason.
> 
> *With Icelandic grammar grafted as necessary and at least one morphophonology taken from Swedish than Icelandic because, err, Tolkien's conlang work. Long story.
> 
>    
> The Weird and Random Glossary:
> 
> **_Geiger-Müller counter_** , also known as Geiger Counter: a well-known radiation detector. It detects alpha particles (helium nucleus of high energy), beta particles (electrons and positrons of high energy) and gamma rays (photons of high…you get the picture).
> 
> **_Torc_ :** A neck ring made of metal, rigid or stiff. The use of torcs is more-or-less a Bronze Age thing up to 3rd century CE. It went back in style during the Vikings, mostly in silver, and I’m not sure if there’s enough evidence that males use it as often as females after the resurgence as there is a dearth of its presence worn by dead males in grave goods (AFAIK). 
> 
>  
> 
> (More world-building trivia on the issue of the torc): In the end, I like the look of Cernunnos with a torc. The writer is taking artistic liberties for aesthetic reasons and world-building-wise, I can use the excuse that they were inspired by Asgardian fashions of the time. Fashion changes, of course, but in the same way that formal wear (like clothes for weddings and other important ceremonies) change slowly, it could be argued that Asgardian funerary dress is ancient even according to Asgardian standards. So it is very possible that the torc is still a part of it. (Who reads this stuff, anyway? Never mind, I just like writing weird details down for myself too).
> 
> ‘-


	23. XXIII. Interviews and Interrogations (Loyalties)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Tony and ‘Tasha are on the scent of a mystery. The Liesmith did not expect to see Darcy. Mr. All-Blind went looking for the Liesmith. Darcy is right in the middle of it. Sessions of Questions and Not-Exactly-Answers._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear Darcy and Loki are just talking in the last scene. Really. The discussion just got heated.

### Interviews and Interrogations (Loyalties)

Darcy ended up in the Stark Diagnostic Labs that was joined at the hip with the Clinic. Technically, it was _merely_ a clinic and not a hospital, but Darcy couldn’t imagine why it _wasn’t_ as it had brightly lit wards and wide aisles, hordes of doctors, interns and avant garde machines. Speaking of machines, she’d fritzed out several of them in the labs. The first was when they tried to check her brain waves. Luckily, Tony remembered enough to stop the nurse from pulling a replacement in before he could shield it ‘from magical interference’ he claimed. He pulled three technicians from out of nowhere and they scrambled to keep up with his rapid fire directions as he jury-rigged some emergency shielding for a few of the remaining tests.

The results for the brain waves came back up as ‘mostly normal’ and she couldn’t help but feel a slight vindictive glee at Tony’s frustration. She had nothing on him. All she wanted was to get back to her apartment as soon as possible but that wouldn’t be possible until whatever set of tests he convinced her to undergo was done.

The other machine she fritzed out, she was told, was the centrifuge machine. She remembered that bit because she heard it was in the middle of spinning. She pitied any poor sods that might need to get their blood retaken if it was screwed up by the machine that had the dumb luck to pick up hers. A different machine got into a spat with her urine sample; her urine sample won.

Darcy had to stifle a laugh at the patently ridiculous idea that she could fight a robot uprising by peeing on them. _Talk about actual pissing contests_. John Connor was going to owe his life to her bladder and kidneys.

“Was it _so hard_ to get a basic tox screen?” Tony complained.

“You’d have to settle with something without fragile electronics,” Natasha commented. Tony groaned and dropped himself on a nearby chair.

“Don’t tell me I’d have to use an old-school optical microscope.”

“No,” Natasha said, “you don’t need to. You’d just have to tell the lab technicians about it.”

Which was just as bad, if Tony’s Night-of-the-Living-Dead level of moaning and groaning was any indication. On second thoughts, that might just be the reason why Natasha said that, just to mess with him.

“Look, even the doctors say that I’m fine, right? They don’t see anything wrong with me? Why can’t I just go home for now? You could always get me once you have a better idea about what to do, or find out how to do tests that won’t break the machines down.” Darcy finally said.

She could see the moment when Tony was ready to throw the towel in for today as he stood up—Darcy happily stood up with her. Natasha, however, was a different story. For some reason, she watched the assistant carefully as if she thought Darcy was able to suddenly transform to a super-spy. As flattering Black Widow’s attention was, she _really_ didn’t need to have a trigger-happy assassin accidentally shooting her if she sneezed wrong.

“Natasha?”

“What do you remember of your dreams, Darcy?” The agent asked unexpectedly.

“Like I told you on the way here. I remembered the broad outlines, but some of the details came and go. That’s one of the reasons I want to get back home, okay? I want to try writing it all down and see if that helps everything else come up better.”

It did not seem to calm the redhead down. But Darcy was already at the end of her rope too.

“Seriously, does _anyone_ have a better idea right now?” She made sure she gave Tony more than his fair share of her tired glare as Natasha—no offence to Tony. In all honesty, Iron Man scared her less than Black Widow.

“Nope,” Tony answered easily. “I agree with you – this is a bust for today—”

“But we will need more details to work with,” the agent interrupted. “Isn’t there something else you can tell us about your dreams?”

Darcy sighed and sat back down. She figured that going back to her apartment wouldn’t be as quick as she wished it.

“You know, you haven’t really told me how your extensive experience translates to detecting some sort of mental mojo mess-ups.”

“You’re right. I haven’t,” Natasha said. Darcy eyed her, waiting. She sat down only after the silence between them stretched for some time. The brunette knew enough of interview tactics (and dodging shady reporters looking for the scoop on Thor) that she couldn’t care less about the silence. Awkwardness? What awkwardness? _I could sit here all day and not say anything_ , she thought.

“Oh, come on, Red, ask your questions,” Tony muttered, getting bored faster than even Darcy.

“Did you see any Avengers in your dream last night?” Natasha asked.

Darcy frowned in thought. “Now that you say that, yeah, I did. Thor was there for a while. Then, there’s you.”

Natasha didn’t even look surprised about it as she gave a brisk nod.

“Was I in there?” Tony asked.

“ _No_.” His answer was given promptly by both women. Darcy cracked a smile at that and even Natasha seemed less severe. He sent both of them disbelieving looks.

“ _What?_ That’s impossible. How could _I_ not be there at all?”

“Maybe you’re not actually _that_ memorable,” Darcy trolled him, grinning ear-to-ear. Tony was not to be outdone.

“I call slander!”

“Magic,” Natasha answered, dousing any light-hearted mood quickly by the seriousness that she said it. She turned her attention to Tony, “I’ve said my suspicions before, Tony, and I stand by it. You’ve heard my account of my own experience, right?”

“Yes, _yes_ , I’ve recorded our actual conversation and the record is clearly time-stamped and untampered,” he said, bored. Darcy tried to follow what on earth they were talking about. “Now it’s time that we ask you about your details, Lewis. So, you said you saw Natasha in your dream. What was she doing?”

“Singing.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because she’s a singer, of course. Duh,” Darcy replied quickly. “She’s a famous singer in a club. My club, actually.”

Darcy didn’t expect that to cause Tony to take a step back from her, the mirth slowly drained from his face. _Dammit, what is it that they know that I don’t?_ Natasha fixed her with a serious gaze but barely reacting to her words. Her voice was level.

“Thank you. Now, what was your club like? Is it a nightclub?”

She shook her head. “No. It wasn’t even anything modern. It’s a speakeasy—the whole place has that gangster-era vibe, y’know? Classy dames and men in suits and hats and everyone’s smoking the place up like they’re making bacon. I even have this friendly feather boa on me most of the time.” Friendly? Wait, why should a feather boa be _friendly?_ Darcy tried not to force herself to remember because if it hadn’t worked the first ten times this morning, she doubted it would work now.

“And what was your dress like?”

“Ummm, lemme see. Something slinky and silk-like. Something…black? Yes, it was black.”

There was that silent eye-communication between the Black Widow and Iron Man. Darcy would be lying if she said she wasn’t losing patience. Fortunately, the redhead was faster.

“Did you see Loki, there?” Natasha asked.

Darcy’s eye widened as she finally realised where the questions were going. “You think he’s somehow behind this, isn’t it?”

“We can’t discount the possibility,” the agent said, neutral. Darcy had to ask herself how she’d failed to notice that Natasha had been using a calm and professional tone for a while now. As in, _let’s not panic the fragile assistant now_ sort-of tone.

“I _think_ I did, it’s towards the end where things get really surreal and it’s harder to remember…but then I also saw Thor and Jane. I don’t think it’s that weird if I saw Loki as well.”

That had Tony raising both eyebrows and snapping his fingers with some sort of enlightenment. “ _You_ saw Thor and Jane? What were they doing?”

“Walking out of the club. Jane wants to float this really big balloon because she’s convinced we can send electricity through _air_.” Darcy said with a feeble shrug. “She wouldn’t even _listen_ to me, but eh, considering that she managed to work with Tesla on it, I could understand. It’s probably a dream come true for her—I remember this part well enough because it’s still at the beginning. The dream still made more sense then.”

“ _Tesla?_ She worked with _Tesla?_ She’s not even an engineer! How is that _fair?_ ” Tony complained, earning a nonplussed look from Natasha. “I should have been the one getting to work with him!”

“I dunno. Maybe you should find a way to get into my dream?” Darcy said carelessly.

“Yeah, you can bet your ass I will. First Contact isn’t going to monopolise his projects for long.”

She couldn’t hold back laughter from his the utter determination in his reply. So what if she knew that Tesla was clearly an important scientist from the way Jane had told Darcy more than once that she was a fan? She still had no idea why Tony was taking this seriously.

“What did you remember of Loki in your dream?” Natasha asked her once more. Darcy looked away, lost in thoughts. The knowledge was…there, at the edge of her awareness, but it refused to come to the surface in a coherent whole. It was like trying to listen to words muffled behind a scarf. ( _Arms covered with roses, woven over and tamped down until the skin was bare once more, was something she could not recall right now_ ). She could see her hand coming up with red from under his waistcoat, though. She shook her head to erase that image.

“I remember that he was wounded,” she said. “He was…”

He was…what? He was closemouthed. He didn’t exactly tell her anything significant and she had to drag him away before he did something stupid again. _Again?_ _Why again?_ She had no answer. There were…roses? Loki was sitting on roses? Why the _hell_ was he lying down over a bed of roses like some ancient forgotten king? Was her subconscious having sleeping beauty ideas and wanted to a play at heroic fantasies? _Urgh, I’m several glasses of wine short to go all psychoanalysis on me_. There was also that guest that was looking for him. Some tall alien dude who was as blunt as a shovel to the head.

(A room decked in green and gold flickered briefly from the edge of her consciousness but was gone before she could notice it).

“Darcy?”

She looked up to see Tony closer than he’d been before. Natasha too. “What?”

“You drifted away there.”

“I did? Sorry. I _know_ there was something more, but I can’t remember much beyond how he’s being a stubborn ass about his wounds and he’d just get it worse if he walks away like that. Tch. Man-ego is still the same even in Asgard.”

“Oh, I understand that completely. I suspect that all the testosterone gets to their head and impairs judgment,” Natasha said with the smallest of smiles. Tony disagreed.

“That’s sexist! I’m a guy here and I don’t pretend I’m not bleeding when I do!”

“You take it to the other extreme. You always whine, Tony,” the redhead said. Darcy did a double–take at the apparent humour in her voice, before she chuckled as Tony kept up his defence for a while.

Darcy spoke up after giving her dream some thought.

“I really can’t recall anything else that would make sense. I mean, I’d say roses again, and maybe longboats and pine trees, but you won’t even understand how that connects to everything else, right?” Darcy said. “See? I don’t understand either, other than how I think I saw Loki bleeding himself to death. So, can’t we just give it a rest for now? Please? Pretty please with sugar on top?”

It might just be the desperation in her voice or the sorta-stoned look she had, but Natasha finally relented.

“Alright. We’ll get in touch with you later.”

“See you, Darcy.”

“See ya Tony, Natasha.”

Tony waved at her and Natasha replied with a nod. Darcy picked up her pace at the prospect of just staying in at her apartment to decompress.

‘-

The two active Avengers in the tower watched Darcy Lewis walk away, relief clear in her expression and the relaxed lines of her body. Tony Stark was appreciating her swinging hips far more than Natasha did.

“You didn’t tell her about your dream,” Tony said. She could sense that he wanted to make it a question somehow.

“Why is that necessary?” Natasha asked. Her teammate raised his eyebrow at her. The old Natasha, the one far too used to working alone would’ve ignored it. Now, she gave grudging concession to other people’s need for more explanation immediately.

“We need to find out about her dreams and she doesn’t need to know about mine.”

“Yeah, but I think she’d feel more comfortable about people poking into her dreams if you’ve shared yours. It makes people feel less alone.”

 She simply stared at him. He searched for more explanation.

“It’s just…you think she doesn’t feel we’re putting her on the spot like that? Why _wouldn’t_ she be reluctant in that case? Or just plain uncomfortable?”

“Operational security, Tony.”

Tony shook his head and marched to the other side of the hallway. Both of his hands were making even more of a mess of his hair before he drew them away in a hurry.

“Dammit ‘Tasha, it’s just a dream! The same frickin’ dream, even! You saw her in your dream, she saw you in hers, and you’re both wearing the same things you remember wearing and holding the same jobs. In the same freaking place. This is a phenomenal lead, so why is this suddenly an opsec issue? If we can get her on the same page, it’s going to go smoother.”

She let the quiet fall between them as she ran through what she had seen once more, trying to her numerous observations into a sentence.

“There are risks.”

He paused, brows creasing in thought. When the realisation hit him, he was incredulous. “You think she’s siding with _Loki_?”

An upward flicker of her eyes was her only concession to an eyeroll.

“It is not a simple matter of sides, Stark. You oversimplify things.”

“Pardon me for thinking that you distrust her and think her helping the tricky bastard.” He replied snidely. “Or were you thinking that someone else was involved?”

Sometimes Natasha wondered how most people seem to enjoy getting off from one extreme emotional burst to several others in an hour. Even all her years undercover hasn’t given her a better answer other than ‘they just do’. It was why she usually found most people a waste of time at best and an annoyance at worst.

“She sympathises with him—you know this.” She stated. Tony only snorted at that.

“You gotta do better than that.”

“And you think she can’t unknowingly help him more than she should without realising it, all because of her sympathy?”

“But what exactly had she been _doing_? You said it yourself, you just saw her came up to someone that might vaguely be Loki and slap him. Then, they talked. So? What state secret that Darcy Lewis knows that he might want her to spill? She’s just Dr. Foster’s assistant here. Heck, he probably knows more about the Bifrost than we do—he doesn’t need to know more about that. You could even see it from what he contributed in his work with them.”

Natasha pursed her lips. “That’s what I could see. They walked away to the back out of sight and my presence at times seems to be…disjointed. We don’t know what they’re doing.”

He waved it away without a second thought.

“It’s a _dream_. I bet Darcy thought it was just a dream. With that in mind, she might be doing him without a second thought. If I have to count the people I did in dreams, eh, the number of my sexual partners is going to be well into the triple digits” he said. It was uncannily prescient of him because Natasha hadn’t even told Tony what she saw. She thought she saw them kissing intimately before they disappeared together but said nothing because she wanted his perspective to be uncoloured by that knowledge. Admittedly, his reasoning had some weight behind them.

“I wonder if she knew? I guess we should’ve told her about it, huh? Didn’t cross my mind just now.” Tony wondered.

“I suppose you’re right,” she conceded. “She may have less scruples because some part of her does not feel it is real.”

Tony whooped with joy.

“Ha! Of course I am.”

“But it does make the argument that someone is messing and melding our dreams stronger when it is clear on the record that I did not even mention the possibility to her at all?” She asked. “It’s far easier to get people to let their guard down in dreams than in their waking hours.”

Tony gave a grudging sigh. “Fine, _fine_. I suppose there’s a point to all this secrecy of yours.”

 She didn’t gloat because it wasn’t professional, but Natasha allowed the slightest curl of her lips as she walked away. Tony walked not far from her.

“If her sympathies are as harmless as you’ve claimed, I have to wonder. Why did she have enough magic to overflow and ruin the machines around her while I don’t?” Natasha asked back.

He shrugged. “A fluke, maybe?”

“Or you could admit that one of us is close to Loki and the others aren't. There are things he could give her.” _In exchange for other things_ , Natasha didn’t say.

Tony shook his head firmly, disagreeing with the drift of her statement. “He might give her something, I’ll grant you that, but she wouldn’t ask him for it. She’s not the sort of girl who would step on people to get ahead.”

Natasha would like to say that most people couldn’t see her as someone who can kill them in cold blood either when she was undercover, much less identify her as the Black Widow. It was the whole point of having another identity, after all, but she had an inkling that it still wouldn’t convince Tony to keep an eye on Darcy Lewis. How the young assistant had gained Iron Man’s trust so quickly Natasha couldn’t quite fathom—she was sure it was not for her beauty. Tony might enjoy the view (as if Natasha wasn’t aware of the times he admired her backside and curves when they were in the field), but his actual focus and concern never strayed far from Pepper these days.

She took a careful breath and said nothing. For all the weapons he had designed and his own experiences in the Gulf itself, she couldn’t help but feel that Tony stayed a hopeless optimist. It was endearing if rather inconvenient at times.

“What now?” Tony asked.

“Now, you run Stark Industries.” She replied.

“I don’t really need to do that, I’m not the CEO.” Tony said it with far more glee than one could expect from an adult. The SHIELD agent ignored the wide grin he was sporting.

“Isn’t it time for you to meet Dr. Rao again?” Natasha threw back.

He rolled his eyes.  “ _Now_ you’re just trying to kick me away. What are you going to do now?”

That was the sentence she’d been waiting for. “You can contact Dr. Strange about this magic business. Then, we need to find Jane Foster and Thor. Since you’ve offered your assistance, it would be more efficient for us to split targets. You can take Thor and I’ll interview Dr. Foster.”

“Interview them? _What?_ Oh, because Darcy said she saw them. You think they’re involved in this dream thing too?”

“We wouldn’t know until we ask, would we?” She said. Even as she replied to him, her mind was beginning to run through the possibilities of why neither she nor Darcy actually saw Tony in their mutual dreams.

“Hey, has Girl Genius actually told her about this morning’s bombshell that she dropped on us? About those half-baked portals from _Jötunheim_?” Tony asked. Natasha turned.

“Wouldn’t she debrief her assistant on something that big?”

“Well, yeah, she probably would, but the important question is _when_. _When_ would Foster debrief her? We dropped in at the lab pretty early and for all I know they might be just setting up then and…shit, she probably didn’t have time to say anything to Darcy, did she?”

Natasha’s expression showed that she was just as lost in thoughts as Tony. “I’ll ask.”

“Maybe we should tell Velma right now,” Tony commented, a frown marring his face. “I mean, does she even know that Loki’s going to get an army _again_? I’d like to think that even her tolerance of him is going to hit its limits when she hears this.”

The agent wasn’t so certain. What she did remember from her dreams was listening to the backstage gossips among the performers. There was an unsettling rumour that was making the rounds then, about how a new gang was muscling into town and they were mostly blue giants. She’d even seen one of them casing the club from the outside, much too tall to ever enter—her estimate of his height was more than three metres, at least. She noticed that Darcy didn’t even mention of hearing anything like it in their light interviews. Of course, the assistant might not be aware of it altogether or…

…or she might know and choose _not_ to say anything about it.

“I suggest you hope your faith in her is well-founded, then,” Natasha replied.

The look Tony sent her barely affected her and she certainly feel no guilt over it.

“Yet I suppose that is not necessary if Strange can be the arbitrer in this case.” She offered, the only sort of appeasement she could give, for Natasha did not deal in empty hopes to her allies. If anything had kept her alive all these decades, it was her tendency to prepare for the worst.

‘-

Darcy guided Mr. All-Blind past the second floor landing and to the door that didn’t look like one. She pushed it open and stepped into snowy plains once more. She sighed against the wind and her feathered serpent curled itself tighter than before. It wasn’t hard following the trail of petals stark and vivid on the ground to find him and the bed of roses that held him.

She broke into a run when she saw he was asleep. Never mind the wounds, she was more worried about hypothermia in this place. Darcy skidded into a halt as she dropped herself to her knees trying to shake him awake. It wasn’t better for her peace of mind to see him in the ancient formal clothes she’d seen him before, clothes that fit too well for a king’s bier. His eyes flickered open with ease as if he’d merely been taking a nap. She hadn’t realised that she would be so glad seeing his annoyed drowsy look again. Darcy spoke in soft tones.

 _You can’t sleep here. Come on, wake up, Loki. We need to move_.

His arm snaked behind her back and pulled her down. She barely managed a squeak as she stumbled down on his chest before he covered her mouth with his. It was hard to resist when she’d been so damned worried about his stupid ass all this time. Still, she prided herself on being able to pull away when it counted. He didn’t let her but merely pulled her on to his lap this time as he sat up.

 _I don’t know why you don’t know it, but you can’t use my name here_.

_Of course I don’t know it. You never told me!_

Why he was staring at her as if it was her fault? _Seriously!_

He was working at something in his head. She could see it. _Call me Your Majesty, then_.

 _In your dreams!_ He was confused for a second, but then his annoying grin appeared and she knew he was just pulling her leg then. _Urgh, whatever, Magic Man_.

His reply was abrupt. _Too common_. Darcy stared at him askance, wondering what his problem was other than the holes in his stomach. They might even be at this impasse for a while if she did not hear a deep clearing of throat and purposely loud steps behind them. She was surprised to see Loki’s expression immediately turn neutral. Darcy turned around and saw All-Blind walking up to them with his staff staked firmly the snow.

_As interesting watching you fail in gaining the favour of a wench, Liesmith, I’d like to cut this short and not waste your remaining time. To stay here for longer is to as lief forfeit your life to me as bleed to death. I’d have the honour of your blood over my blade if you choose to waste your life._

_Not_ just _a wench, thank you!_ Darcy complained.

She couldn’t help her eyes from straying to the sword on All-Blind’s belt. He was too relaxed even as he said this. Darcy would’ve been more wary if Loki wasn’t just as unconcerned about his random interest in homicide.

 _I know. I’d be sure to choose you as my executioner if I am ever suicidal_. Loki answered and tried to stand up at the same time. Darcy made sure to bear some of his weight despite his stubbornness. _I’m just wondering on how unpredictable my magic was_.

If he had eyebrows instead of those markings on his face, she was sure All-Blind would’ve raised them.

_Your magic?_

_The manifestation. What else could it be?_ Loki said. He cocked his head towards Darcy and she bristled.

Surprisingly enough, All-Blind laughed. It was that loud and rather scary sound again, like the grinding of hailstones, but Darcy was getting used to it. Loki was less amused.

_What has gotten into you, Warlock?_

_You are weaker than you’re aware of, Flightier-than-Air. It would explain why your mind was expecting a funeral already. But if you expect her to send you off—_

Here, Darcy yelped because she hadn’t realised when she’d picked up a torch _again_ in her hands.She threw it away again, far from the kindling and stared accusingly at Loki, who shrugged as if nothing was wrong.

— _then I suppose you consider her a part of your household to be able to do that, is that right?_

_You are implying something, All-Blind. Speak and be done with it._

All-Blind was grinning, rows of pointed teeth displayed proudly in his mouth. He was both amused and threatening.

 _See her outfit and tell me whether that is something you would choose yourself._ Now, he was also staring at Darcy’s general direction and getting all that teeth flashed at you is still a pretty hair-raising experience even when you’ve seen it a few times before. If she hadn’t forced herself to keep her breathing steady and calm down, she would’ve taken a few steps back from him and away from Loki.

The Asgardian turned to look at her and Darcy couldn’t help but follow their gaze down her outfit. As outfits go, it wasn’t that bad. She had a fur coat over her black dress now and it matched the serpent curling around her. There was a cloche hat over her head. The most incongruous had to be her shoe, which were her beloved old Nikes. She broke into a smile—there was no doubt that her outfit was comfortable.

For some reason All-Blind was looking at _her_ and she felt that he was still silently laughing in his own head.

 _The little mortal is not a phantasm, Liesmith. She is_ here _and you owe her a great debt for leading me to you. Now, don’t you have an explanation to give her as to why you were taking favours freely from her as if she was a thrall?_

She had never seen Loki shut up that fast before he whirled to truly look at her. If he had the blood to spare, she suspected there would’ve been some colour on his cheeks. Placing a hand on her waist, she cocked her hips to one side.

 _Ah,_ that _explains all the enthusiasm and PDA—you never really liked that. Thought I was just a moving blow-up doll, huh?_

 She didn’t imagine the slight cringing. _Dearling—_

 _Oh,_ now _I’m sure that you’re trying to convince me that you’re just desperate because you missed me. It wouldn’t even be_ that _bad if you hadn’t been such a coward that you can’t even say a proper goodbye!_

 _There was a note_ , he insisted.

 _And you were avoiding me for more than a week before that. Seriously, was I that scary?_ She challenged him, not missing the way the muscles of his neck went taut.

_I was busy—_

_Oh pull the other one. It has bells on!_

All-Blind stepped forward. _As interesting as this lover’s spat is—_

 _It’s_ not _a lover’s spat._

_Who said we were lovers?_

Loki and Darcy snapped back at him so much in sync it was scary and suddenly the visitor was grinning again. His eyes were closed as he was more content with following them with his ears.

_She’s a meddling busybody who won’t leave you alone—_

_He’s a pretty incompetent friend, if you know what I mean—_

_—and apparently halfway across the universe isn’t far enough away from her._

_—because I’ve dragged him out, dragged_ you _here and I still haven’t got any thanks for it!_

They broke up to the growling sound of another laughter from Darcy’s visitor.

_Very well. I will leave you to your…arguments, Liesmith, because I still need to find your body now that I know where you are—before the weather turns you into a frozen carcass._

He then turned to Darcy. _If you know what is wise for you, little mortal, you will take this opportunity to learn just_ where _you’ve managed to get yourself into right now. Consider my debts repaid in full with this knowledge I give you—you are no longer in Midgard_.

With that, he turned away from then and walked towards the tree line in a direction perpendicular to where they came from, if Darcy’s sense of direction was to be believed.

‘-

It was weird how the wind fell away from her sails once it was just the two of them once more without a stranger in their midst. Darcy surprised not just Loki but also herself when she stepped forward and hugged him fiercely. It was a sign of how weak he was that he actually swayed when he caught her. It took a while to get him to hug her back.

 _You scared me, you stubborn idiot_.

 _I find myself disagreeing with your unflattering nicknames_ , Loki muttered into her hair. She gave a light smack to his ass for that smartass comment and he retaliated by nipping the skin just below her ear. Her traitorous knees were reliably turning into jelly as she snuggled into his warmth, trying to ignore what little blood she could smell on him and the unearthly tinge of eglantine.

 _I’m not calling you Liesmith_.

He sounded genuinely surprised. _Why not?_

 _You’re a wordsmith, maybe, but I don’t think you’re a liesmith. You don’t lie enough_.

 _There are many who will tell you that I don’t tell the truth enough_.

 _They might fail at listening to you but I don’t_ , Darcy insisted. _I’d call you Trickster—_

He bit the skin right over her pulse a little harder than usual and turned it into an open mouthed kiss to her neck. She moaned before deciding to bite her wrist. No need to scare the local wildlife.

— _but I don’t…think…you like it, for some…reason. Oh, stop that! I can’t_ think _!_

 _Who said I want you thinking?_ She grabbed his ass in annoyance but that wasn’t a particularly useful reprimand since it meant she was accidentally grinding a certain member of his against her crotch. She did get a groan out of him for it.

 _So,_ Darcy said casually, _Silvertongue_. She could feel him smile against her lips as they properly greeted each other this time with Loki fully aware of who she was. It was sweeter than the ones before for reasons she couldn’t fathom. Or maybe it was just the way he held her, cocooned within his arms and just like the one he refused to explain before.

 _Yes, that_ is _my name_ , he answered _._ She didn’t imagine the smug tone in it.

_Could you tell me why I can’t call you like usual? I think I’ve called you by your name several times—_

_—and I thought I was in a private dream then, talking to an illusion of my own mind._ Loki finished for her before his lips returned to her temple. It was making her mind all sorts of fuzzy; the good sort of fuzzy, right before you fall asleep.

 _Huh, right. Well, All-Blind practically yelled at me after I gave him my name_.

Loki froze. He pulled her away to stare straight at her. His hands were gripping her arms hard enough to leave marks.

 _You told him your name_.

 _Yeah, I said that_.

 _Your_ name _._

His words were heavy with meaning while the storm build in his eyes as his voice remained even. She didn’t know what he was insinuating, didn’t like that she had no idea about it either. She thought she could see his cloak swirl behind him and there wasn’t even enough wind for it. The weaselly scarf around his neck wound itself tighter defensively. It looked more like a critter now than a scarf. A little beast of magic with deep brown eyes feeding off the tension of its master.

She could feel the serpent clinging to her to stir as well, the agitation creating a feedback loop between the two of them. Darcy started scratching him softly to get him to calm down, trying to reach the skin below the quills (what she thought had been feathers weren’t _exactly_ feathers, but close enough at a glance).

She huffed. _Okay, so I told him my name._

 _Do ensure you tell no other_ , he replied stiffly.

 _I_ know. _He said the same thing and I get that message when he was all roaring and scary, okay? Look, what is this shit about? How many times do I have to tell you that I have no idea what you’re getting me into?_

_Oh, so it’s my fault now—_

_Well I certainly don’t go from owning speakeasies one day to opening a door and stepping into Narnia the next! Where_ the hell _are we, Silvertongue?_ Darcy asked, trying hard not to give in to the urge to yell. Loki’s gaze darted around them far too frequently to be casual. He was certainly checking the place, though for what she wasn’t too enthusiastic about finding out.

 _The Dreaming._ He answered.

 _What?_ Loki didn’t answer except to take her hand in his and to held it firmly as she strode away from the incongruous (inexplicable) swath of roses on the snow. _Wait, why are we running? Are you even supposed to be running with your wounds?_

 _Quiet. The wounds I already have can hardly get any worse here instead of waking, but we need to get somewhere safe immediately._ He was distracted—he wasn’t even snapping his replies to her and Darcy picked up her own pace as she caught his sense of urgency.

Occasionally, Loki stopped their tracks to stare at the snow-covered ground and into the air, murmuring in a foreign tongue all the while. They were approaching the forest now and more pine grew ahead of them than flat open land. She didn’t think there was much to see, but for every pause he took and every tree he stood before, she noticed that the snow became thinner and soon she could see the path they’d been taking. They crossed a small frozen creek, relying more on the ice and stepping stones than any bridge. On the other side she could spy a small cottage. She was far more grateful at the thought of respite than she thought she’d be.

She wasn’t the only one picking up her steps through the front yard. Loki pulled the door wide open and Darcy entered without being told.

Instead of a quaint lodge of roughly hewn wood, she entered a palatial room that definitely should not fit inside the cottage. The grand French windows on the other side made even less sense; she could see beyond the balcony the gleaming spires of a golden metropolis. The air did not bite her cheeks with frost and was temperate instead. There was the fresh lemon scent of some cleaning essence, the slight leather from the chairs and the library smell of books from _the bookshelves on all the walls_.

She fell in love at first sight with the place that she didn’t even notice the green-and-gold colour scheme.

 _What do you know? It’s bigger on the inside_ , she said, wryly. Loki sent her an odd look, perhaps because she wasn’t as surprised as he’d expected.

 _That’s because we’re not actually inside the cottage_ , Loki said. _I only needed a door_.

Darcy took her time to look around and noticed two other doors apart from the one they entered from and the obvious one to the balcony. For some reason he wasn’t wearing Asgardian clothes. He had the suit of smoke and shadows she’d seen him wear before instead, with a bluish purple scarf patterned with waves around his neck instead of the magical critter. That scarf looks darned familiar for some reason, Darcy thought.

_This is your room?_

_My chambers in the palace, yes._ He was observing her quietly as he said this.

_You don’t seem surprised._

She snorted. _After my room turned out to be a land of winter? Seeing you half dead? Suddenly getting tattoos I don’t even remember? I’m fresh out of fucks to give. Just wait for a while and all of this might even catch up with me later_. Both of the chairs in front of the fireplace were high-backed leather ones. She dropped herself in one of them with a sigh and noticed that she was in an Asgardian dress this time. It was familiar—it was the purple dress that Loki made out of nowhere. Her living feather boa stayed with her, though.

She pulled her sleeves up and—surprise, surprise—she could see the faint outline and the colouring of roses there. It was faded now. All that remained was the faintest blush of lavender over skin and only visible to a discerning eye.

_So, explanations now? I’m dreaming you?_

Loki took the other seat, watching her carefully. She simply waited.

 _We’re both dreaming_ , he finally said. _Right now, we’re in my dream, which is safer than staying in the In-Between without protection. The problem is you shouldn’t be here_.

_Is that some way of saying you want to kick me out?_

_No, that’s a way of saying you_ shouldn’t _be here. There are too many things that can easily feast on an unwary and inexperienced mortal lost in the In-Between._

_Where is this In-Between place, anyway?_

_Everywhere and Nowhere_ , he replied.

_You’re not making any sense!_

He shrugged. _But that_ is _the right answer. It is not my fault if you don’t know enough to understand._

Darcy glared at him and he let a smirk grew on his face. He was enjoying this too much and there was no way that she’d let things stay that way or actually give up. She wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. This was just another game, right?

 _So the In-Between place is also called the Dreaming, based on what you said_. It was a statement, not a question, but she kept her eyes on him as she said it. Loki did not react. She took her statement to lack any obvious fallacies because of that.

(Ironically she knew enough of him to guess that it would not be because he wanted to tell her the truth. He would still wish to be able to say that he had never been intentionally misdirecting or lying to her).

 _And that place is like the blend of dreams? Everyone’s dreams and no one’s in particular_ , Darcy said, her eyes widening as soon as she said the words. She understood what he meant now and from the way a smile found its way to his face despite his best intentions, he saw it too. _It’s a far more public space than someone’s personal dream, isn’t it?_

 _That is one of the ways it is_ , he replied. _It is the estuary where all rivers of the unconscious meet_.

_This room is a dream of yours. The speakeasy was mine, so it’s a dream of mine?_

He shrugged. _Yes, this is my personal dream. The speakeasy takes many of its elements from you._

It was too nonchalant and she did not miss that he didn’t describe the speakeasy with the exact same words he used to describe this room he created. It might mean nothing, but after all this time, Darcy wasn’t sure just how many things Loki said were merely coincidental instead of purposeful. She sighed; she probably still wasn’t asking the right questions. Damn, more questions she needed to shelve for another time, then.

_You said I shouldn’t be here because it’s dangerous and yet here I am. How?_

_Magic_ , he said easily and it annoyed her how she couldn’t get a good read on him. If this keeps up, she wasn’t going to find out anything. She stood up and the flickering embers in the fireplace bathed her in warm light. His eyes followed every swish of fabric. She smiled. That was exactly what she expected. Darcy casually straddled his lap.

She didn’t miss the breath she knocked out of him and how his hands automatically fell on her waist.

 _Was it your magic that brought me here?_ She asked.

He pulled her left arm, letting the sleeve fell away and ran his tongue up her wrist once more. She couldn’t help the automatic twitch of her hips when he did that. Loki’s eyes fell shut at her movement, his coal-black eyelashes catching her attention.

 _There’s some of it, yes, but most of it is not mine_.

She silently cursed him for looking so kissable and tried to salvage her focus.

_Do you know who did it?_

_I do_. He opened his eyes and smirked before she could complain. She didn’t exactly ask who; she only wanted to know if he knew. He sucked the inside of her elbow and she almost fell forward. Darcy exchanged her elbow for her lips instead and Loki certainly didn’t complain about it from the pleased sound she heard, especially when his hand was trapped between their chests. He gave a gentle squeeze to her breast while biting her lower lip.

Darcy used that as an opportunity to slip her tongue deeper. They lost themselves in each other’s kisses while her dress rode higher and higher and more buttons gave way to Darcy’s hands. He had pulled all the laces loose. She moved away; when she saw his undone shirt it was with a distinctly triumphant feeling.

 _Who did it?_ She asked.

 _That’s a little more complicated_ , he began. Darcy couldn’t stop herself from narrowing her eyes at the sign of prevarication.

_Who, Silvertongue? You?_

He shook his head and placed his hand over her cheek. He did a good job of keeping pity out of his gaze. _No,_ you _._

It didn’t make a lick of sense but the weight of his gaze was hard to ignore.

 _All-Blind said something like that too—he said I glow with magic but that’s impossible, right? I_ don’t _have magic! I mean, do humans even have magic?_ It was hard to stop the panic from leaking into her voice. She thought she could feel something over her arms too, a gentle buzz over skin that felt more like waves washing over a beach than electricity.

 _You didn’t_.

Her shoulders slumped with relief and Loki closed the distance between them once more. Yet there was something more now when she laid her hand against his skin. An impatient spark bounced between them as she lightly scored his scalp with nails. He dragged her dress down from her shoulders without any resistance now that it was unsecured. Her underwear didn’t give a better fight. When he scattered kisses between her breasts there was that slight buzz over her skin again, this time in a stronger intensity to make her shiver.

It was too bad that her brain worked better with all the endorphins.

 _Didn’t_ , Darcy murmured, noticing. _You said I didn’t_. _But I do now, don’t I? I_ do _have magic?_

_It doesn’t matter—_

_Of course it does! In which flippin’ universe does having magic_ not _matter?_ She could feel wind running through her hair and thought that the _crack_ she heard from somewhere far away sounded like thunder.

He held her face in his hands and brought their foreheads together. _Look at me_ , his voice was firm but soothing and she found that she could breathe better if she just focused on his green eyes as he spoke rapidly but clearly to her.

 _Stay with me Da—ljúfr mín. You don’t need to worry about it. It won’t hurt you; the magic can’t hurt you, I can promise you that. It just happens to be there now, a neighbour on your skin_.

 _That would make it more like a freeloading tenant_ , she complained. His lips quirked upwards slightly and he slowed down. The cadence of his words was even more soothing.

_It’s actually to your advantage as even when you cannot wield it, it will naturally protect you. That is the least you could do—nothing, and you will still be well. You create friendships easily, Dearling, so just treat it as another friend. Your bull-headed, pain-in-the-backside generosity—_

_Hey!_

_—will take you far and you will have it eating from the palm of your hand in no time. Stop worrying and please stop trying to turn my chambers upside down_. The last was said with a wry smile and Darcy couldn’t help but look around.

She saw some books flapping down from the air to land on the nearest surface. A few unlucky tomes dropped down directly with a thump like so much dead weight. There was a board game set on a corner table that was now overturned (it was similar to chess but wasn’t), the wardrobe was open and so many things were strewn on the floor. The only thing upright was the bed and the chair they were sitting on. It looked as if a twister had just passed. Considering the circular breeze that was still dying down right now, it wouldn’t be a wrong guess.

With several gestures of his hand and words Darcy certainly couldn’t catch, the objects in the room began to float back to its own place. Order returned slowly but surely while Loki ran his fingers up and down the roses on her arms, raising the fine hairs there. She caught his hands before he distracted her but he pulled away easily, this time running them in the air just above the skin. It looked like he was weaving with invisible threads, though the effects were visible – the roses began to disappear. But maybe if she could just squint a little and tilt her head right _there_ she might be able to see something…

 _Now, don’t worry about the magic_. He said, breaking her concentration.

_But how did I even get it in the first place?_

He shook his head. _It’s a long story that we can’t go into now—you’re waking up._ Loki seemed intensely disappointed. She was flattered for a second until she remembered that they were in the middle of something before being interrupted. Now _she_ was disappointed.

 _I’ve placed a block on your memories to make them mere shadows in your mind and harder to recall when awake, until we’re finished with the explanations and rudimentary introduction. It’s not permanent but it will suffice_.

_Why do I even need it?_

_Because half-truths are more dangerous than ignorance_ , _Litavindr_. _I’ll teach you about it further but that is for our next meeting, yes?_

She didn’t have time to ask him about all those incomprehensible words he used in lieu of her name as the room caught her attention. It was the small room at the end of the hallway once more, with its wrought iron bed, boiler and wooden planks for floors. One last kiss on her lips and then suddenly she was alone.

Then, the room came to pieces around her and she could see the great black beyond slowly lightening up. Darcy woke up in the morning with more unrest than she had before she slept, the horny sensation of unfinished business and no clear memory of how that came about.

‘-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'll keep updating at this pace for two more chapters before pausing to accumulate more chapters. Just to get over the current mini-arc.


	24. XXIV. Down the Rabbit Hole, Part 1 (Friends, Rivals, Companions)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Loki recovers among companions. Jane flashes her claws. Darcy goes down the rabbit hole. Loki owes more than a few explanations at this point._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating really early because I need to get out of town for a cousin's wedding and I'd probably get caught in the rush. 
> 
> (Plus, I need to practise my poker face once the horde of extended family descends and asks me [with pity, with enthusiasm] when I'd do the same and settle down because even the cousin[s] younger than me have found the girl of his [their] dreams. [And cackling like a hyena to all that I don't give a damn about is not really the done thing, so yeah, the poker face it is].}

### XXIV. Down the Rabbit Hole, Part 1 (Friends, Rivals, Companions)

Loki coughed some blood out and carefully sat up. His lungs felt much better now and even a light probe told him that the hole that was in his left chest had closed. Wood crackled in a fire to his right.

He was in a rather large cave. All-Blind sat close to him and passed him a bowl without turning away from the hearth. Whatever it he was mixing left a prickly herbal smell in the air. It was a comforting smell for Loki because he’d smelled similar brews on occasion from Frigga’s kitchen. Loki took the bowl, sniffing the contents once before drinking the concoction in one go. It didn’t help his mood much that he had woken up in a particularly uncomfortable state in his trousers.

_Most inconvenient timing_ , he cursed.

“Took you long enough, Loki. Never knew you were as much of a worm as your reputation.” His host said, gruffly.

“You natter more than an old biddy, Helblindi,” Loki groused. “If the fools outside can’t practise somewhere else, let us see how they like fighting in the river.”

Indeed, there were the distinct clangs of metal in the background, with booming voices raised either in taunts, challenges or jokes to accompany them. It made his migraine worse. The sound was the familiar jests of young warriors at weapon practise—Loki could identify it anywhere since his youth in Asgard. He was just as certain that he could wipe the floor with a majority of them in one-on-one.

Helblindi barked with laughter at Loki’s words, the sound not unlike the howls of a canny old wolf. “And who will dunk them? _You_? You who are as like a babe in swaddling?”

“What use is being a sorcerer if not to mess with fools bigger than you? Along with all the stupid friends he can summon?”

Helblindi nodded in agreement. As a physically disadvantaged magic user, he was certainly familiar with the thought.

Loki set the bowl aside and reached out to his magic. It flowed vigorously as it crashed through his veins, a river delightedly rushing through its thawing banks in spring. He tried to summon his daggers and easily held a dozen of them in his hands before he called them off. A grin lit his face. When he tried to stand up, the reality of his physical condition slapped him in the face with vertigo. He ended up leaning back against the cave wall if he didn’t want to collapse. Even his eyesight had blacked out from the sudden movement—and Loki remembered just then that he still hadn’t replenished enough blood.

He cursed out loud.

Helblindi was still laughing.

“Stubborn as a pup, I see. Well, go on, teach them a lesson.” The Jötunn said. “It will be entertaining to see you flattened under their fists. The youths are whole and hale Jötnar, certainly unlike the crippled runt of an old giant that dragged your carcass from the snow.”

Loki met the faded red eyes of his current host and the reality of his recovering body. He slid down to a sitting position on the floor once more, over the giant bearskin.

“They have reprieve for a few days,” Loki conceded.

“I am sure they are thankful for your mercy, _Hvirfilbylur_ ,” he said, and the pointed canines of his too-wide grin said otherwise.

“Your voice is giving me a headache.” Loki poured himself more of the herbal soup from the large cauldron. Occasionally, large bones floated in the broth.

“Your foolishness gave you that headache,” the frost giant jibed back. There was a larger bowl that he shoved across the floor in Loki’s direction. It could fit a chicken and was closer to being a curved plate. “It is not difficult to discern what sort of arrowheads wounds you. You have been careless, Shadow-and-wind.”

On it were the shards of Loki’s metal cuffs, large and small. The smallest were smaller than peas and there were even ones smaller than grains of sand.

“You should’ve taken your chains off before you cross.”

“You could not have taken these out on your own, Seer-of-Unseen,” Loki stated, choosing to ignore his statement.

Helblindi scoffed. “Of course I couldn’t. Who did you think I am? You, with your reckless belief in your own omnipotence? These murky eyes are still good for some things, but needlework or counting grains is not one of them.”

Loki rolled his eyes but said nothing.

“Angrboda is eagle-eyed and her hands deft. There is no better healer on this side of Ymir’s Fang.”

_And no better witch_ , Loki thought but did not say. He was quite aware of her skills, _all_ of her skills, as the particularly memorable set of decades from his misspent youth would attest. The way things stand now, he acknowledged that it was better for both of their interests and peace of mind if they did not interact with each other frequently. That she would listen to Helblindi’s call and came to his aid was something he hadn’t expected. For all of Helblindi’s disinterest to all the trappings of the Jötnarnir warrior class, he was still more involved with the Jötnar in general than Angrboda was. She had her forest and she was satisfied enough as long as she was left alone. The witch was even downright cantankerous when familiar visitors came without informing her first—strangers usually end up dead to her traps or her pets.

She was a hermit through and through, more comfortable working alone than with others.

Loki took another helping of the soup and held back the urge to frown. _So why did she come here, then?_

He did not believe Helblindi would’ve informed her of his presence, for the mostly blind Jötunn was overly-cautious and disguised Loki’s presence even from his other counsels. Her cause of voluntarily leaving her home to visit the other frost giant could not be Loki. What Angrboda did was not as significant as saving his life, for he was certain Helblindi was capable enough in his craft to manage without her assistance, but his recovery would be noticeably longer and more painful.

Even as he finished the bowl, Loki was left with the uncomfortable realisation that he owed an old paramour of his a favour.

‘-

Tony accompanied Natasha all the way back to Jane Foster’s lab. If she had wondered about his reasons, she said nothing. It was clear that Dr. Foster hadn’t expected either Avengers to return, judging by the way Jane almost dropped her StarkPad when she saw them, much less both.

“Is something wrong?” Jane asked. “Is Darcy alright?”

“She’s fine. We just sent her back to her apartment. Not a lot of lab tests are going to be able to be run until we shield the fragile electronics from magic,” Tony said.

“That’s great to hear,” Jane said as she sat down, but the worry in her face belied her words. Tony sat down on the couch in front of her and Natasha took her own seat too because it was clear that the astrophysicist was too distracted to be a welcoming host for them.

“So,” Tony began. “It’s about your findings, these portals that we found popping up all over the place.”

The astrophysicist brightened. “Really? What do you need to know about it? I still call them anomalies because not all of them are working portals. We can suppose that perhaps all of them are intended to be one, but many are failures and aren’t even halfway there.”

“The most worrying thing is the Jötunheim connection.”

Jane nodded. “Oh, _of course_.”

“Have you told Darcy Lewis about it?” Natasha asked.

Her movements stilled as she mulled over the words. “There wasn’t time and I don’t know how to tell her.”

“How about ‘portals open, frost giants come in’?” Tony offered, but she seemed pensive.

“I suppose I could, but she looked so spent that I didn’t think it was fair to add this on top of that. It’s not as if it really has that much to do with her, does it? She’s not an Avenger like you. As long as we both keep our distance from the anomalies we’re investigating, we’d be fine.”

“You _do_ remember that we had a Jötunn as a guest here, right?” Tony’s words drew an astonished look from Jane and she sat up.

“What, _Loki?_ Are you saying that he’s behind this?”

Then, to their surprise, the scientist chuckled. “The frost giants are able enough to create trouble on their own. You think Loki would send a pack of _Jötnar_ to invade earth after his previous failure in dealing with _them_? Oh, I don’t think so. He might be morally questionable, but he’s not stupid.”

“He could be bringing a larger army.” Tony said.

“The only way a Jötnar army could be larger and more united would be if he was king of the Jötnar, and I don’t think he’d want to be king of that freezing hell hole,” Jane answered with more certainty than either of them expected. “Otherwise the frost giants are far too fragmented to be a significant threat. Loki wouldn’t use them; he doesn’t play with odds that would hold him back from winning. If he was going to invade earth again, it couldn’t be just with that. There has to be something more backing him up first.”

“You know your frost giants well,” Natasha commented casually.

Jane stared at her for a moment too long, for what he didn’t know, but it was a piercing look. The tension that built up after a while made him worry if he had to break up a cat fight any time soon (because Tony sure as hell didn’t know what it was about). The astrophysicist smile was blunter than Thor’s hammer.

“I’m dating Thor, Ms. Romanova. If there is one thing he knows clearly even half asleep, it would be the armies of the Nine Realms and he is such an enthusiastic teacher at that. If you would spend some time with your teammates, I’m sure you’ll know just as much as I do about it too.” She replied, with a strange emphasis in her voice.

Natasha was also smiling now, far more amused than Tony generally saw her and there was _still_ a freaky tension in the air that was thick enough to be cum shots. The Black Widow nodded to Dr. Foster. Tony didn’t understand why neither of them was trying to take each other’s heads off yet.

“Thank you for your advice, Dr. Foster. I’ll keep it in mind.”

She sauntered off before Tony could figure out what happened, and he gave a hasty goodbye to Jane as he followed the scarily sexy leather-suited form of the Black Widow.

“Whoa, what the hell happened, ‘Tasha? I didn’t know that First Contact there doesn’t like you.”

“We know where we stand.” Natasha said easily. “She gave me the reply I was looking for.”

He disagreed. “You look like you could claw each other’s eyes out.”

She shrugged. “I don’t blame her irritation. I was just short of accusing her of sleeping with Loki.”

He blinked and then he stared his teammate down while keeping up with her long-legged strides.”Was there some feminine mystique telepathy crap? Because I’m sure I heard a different conversation than that one.”

Unexpectedly, Natasha laughed.

“It would seem we would have to switch targets now, Tony. I had the answer I was looking for, but it would seem I’ve burnt my bridges too, for now. You’ll have to interview Dr. Foster while I’ll take Thor.”

“Yeah, whatever, but you _still_ owe me that explanation.”

Natasha merely smiled. “Ask Pepper about it. She’d see it.”

“ _’Tasha!_ Oh, come _on_!”

‘-

The wind died down unnaturally quickly, Helblindi mused.

The Asgardian prince was walking back from a brief spar with the younger giants. His slow, lazy stride of his easy confidence kept the younger giants away, but it also hid Loki’s low energy levels and the slight limp on his right leg. If Helblindi did not listen well to the difference in the way the Asgardian dragged either of his feet through the snow, he wouldn’t have noticed it either.

“You would sleep again?” The frost giant asked Loki.

“Well, since you whined about how useless I am right now, it would be better for you if I recover myself as soon as possible, wouldn’t it?” He replied.

The younger giants ( _the blinkered idiots_ , Helblindi privately thought) were still in a daze as they keep turning around like cornered rabbits, possibly trying to take in the full extent of the mess ( _the destruction_ ) Loki had wrought on the training grounds they’d used. He could feel some of their life force flickering upright from various curled or compacted positions—he suspected that some of them had only now pulled themselves out of whatever nook and cranny they’d shoved themselves when Loki let his magic loose.

“If you were actually thinking of recovering, you would not be out rolling in the snow,” Helblindi pointed out to his guest.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Loki said, pleasantly, “your young tribesmen and a few tribeswomen are very eager to make my acquaintance. I didn’t have the heart to turn them down.”

The ground was not even. With every tap of his staff upon the earth, Helblindi sent a little of his own magic out and the returning echo was choppy, as fragmented as waves broken by rocks. He could feel frost giants taking circular or roundabout paths, clearly telling of obstructions or uneven ground in their path. In the absence of great stones and trees, whose presence or life force he would’ve felt, he concluded that it meant Loki had rent gouges on the earth, as if by giant claws.

As another sorcerer, he was more critical of Loki’s approach. He could see how wasteful the Asgardian had been with magic while he was unable to rely on his physical endurance much.

“If you’re strong enough to fight, then you’re more than strong enough to clean up your own mess.” Helblindi shouted in the direction of Loki’s back. Loki raised a hand and gave a lazy wave at that, before replying over his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry, I’m afraid this _worm_ isn’t up to very strenuous activities. Someone had stated that I would only be able to wriggle with my stomach on the ground for a few more days. I think I agree with him.”

The frost giant rolled his eyes.

“He’s just as much of an idiot as they are,” he muttered, but he did see what Loki was doing. The primary means of gaining respect among frost giants were simple—beat them up and you’ve proven to them that you can lead them.

A youth taller than him by two feet approached, wide-eyed with wonder.

“We thought you’ve brought a weakling! The elders say that the Asgardians are soft, _unpractised_.”

Helblindi bet he knew which of the stupid elders those were too. It really would’ve been easier if he didn’t have to gain the cooperation of many of the other tribes. He could either ignore them, or if they’d bothered him too much, duel them to the death. _None of this sitting, whining, talking and more whining_ , he thought with dismay.

“Did your elders also teach you to rush headlong into a Winterbear cave?” He snapped. The young giant froze.

“Uh, no, Elder.”

“What did you call this, then? ‘Bored of living’, hmm? Or is it ‘I have too much energy I will be honoured to hold two weeks of latrine trench duty’, is it?” He asked. He could almost feel the increased vibration of the youth—anxiety. If he bothered to fine tune his ears a little more with magic, he would’ve heard the increased heart beat of the young Jötunn. But he didn’t need to. He knew this as well as the back of his hand, particularly when he could smell the acrid scent of fear from the boy.

He placed his fingers in his mouth and whistled to catch all their attention. Then, he bellowed at the top of his lungs.

“This training ground will look exactly like that,” he pointed to the still even one next to them, “by sunset! If you haven’t managed it yet, then by Ymir’s hairy backside you will be responsible in ensuring that every other training ground on this side of the river is perfectly even every morning for a week!”

The last word one would use to describe his smile was _friendly_. He might not be able to see who was where, exactly, as his eyes limited him to a general impression of light and dark. Yet if he extended his magic sense, he could just make out the life force of every living thing within a five-mile radius. The frost giants stood out like beacons compared to smaller creatures, and he could identify who was who by the distinct taste of their life force.

“Do _not_ bother trying to dodge! I know _exactly_ which of you idiots have gotten themselves into this mess right now!”

The muttered curses, hidden groans and moans were like music to his ears. He flashed them all his teeth in a bright grin, and the complaints murmured by those closest to him were suddenly silenced.

“Or perhaps some of you are still too restless to work? If they are, I give them leave from this task to practise their weapons against this crippled runt of an elder.”

He was right too, as all of the other frost giants were taller than him by a significant margin.

Yet for some reason, nobody took up his offer.

‘-

Darcy shook her head, observing the singer on stage with surprise. It wasn’t Natasha, or Red, as she was known by her stage name. It was a leggy blonde with a sultry smile that could’ve easily made other women self-conscious of their assets (or lack thereof). She wore a black dress with white accents and a domino mask to complete her ensemble and her confidence was a beacon among the milling mist that was other people. Darcy still couldn’t quite pick out the details of the crowd.

_People, you’ve had the nice and quiet. Now’s the time to liven up the night!_

The band struck up something irresistibly raucous and she performed around the stage with as much spirit as she sang. What she lacked in technicality she completely owned in her infectious glee.

_Not that I’m complaining, but I don’t think I’ve actually signed her up_ , Darcy thought out loud. Then again, maybe Sarah did it. Her feathered serpent shifted against her and she patted its head while she looked around on the floor. She smacked the hand of the goblin that was about to grab from the cherry bowl he was carrying.

_Wait, whose bright idea was it to let goblins carry foodstuff in open containers? Must inform the kitchen not to_.

The floor was full with dancing couples, and if some of them are of the same gender or one was a robot, people pretended they didn’t see anything; it was the same way everyone _knew_ they were drinking juice or tea. Everyone was happy and the booze was there, even if you have to serve it in teacups sometimes to fake respectability. Just in case some of the fuzz got a sudden attack of stupid.

It made her wonder, why was she on the floor once more? There were no fires (literal or otherwise) that needed to be put out. She must’ve a reason to get out and walk about, but whatever it was she couldn’t recall it right now. She absentmindedly tripped a goblin before it could trip some patrons and hauled it up from the floor by its scruffs before sending it on its way with a warning glare.

This was when Sarah caught her arm. Their black dresses could easily be matching pairs with only slightly different styles and it made them seem even more like sisters. Instead of a feather boa, her friend had a cape on, the shoulders of which are lined with grey-blue feathers. The hand on Darcy’s arm was unusually tight, just like the shadows under her eyes.

_Slugger, what were you involved in?_

_That’s really the wrong question to ask here, isn’t it? I mean, what_ aren’t _we involved in?_ Darcy said.

She shrugged in the direction of the dance floor and the occasional tea cups in people’s hands. She wondered a little about her friend’s unusually frequent use of her nickname, but didn’t give it further thought.

Sarah gave a grudging nod to that.

_I just came in from the other clubs around here and there are some giants looming and being menacing—and when I say giants, I really mean_ giants _. I don’t know what they’re looking for, but they’ve been thrashing more than one place_.

_Maybe they just don’t like competition_ , Darcy commented. _Some of them do ally themselves with human mobsters, you know. So what, we need to start getting additional security? Get the fuzz to somehow read them the riot act?_

_Somehow that’s not the vibe I get from them_ , Sarah said under her breath. Darcy couldn’t help noticing the exotic smoky-eyes look her friend had only made the green of her eyes shine that much brighter. There were almost like marsh lights now, luring people off the beaten tracks to drown with a capricious glee. _They keep saying something about some portal and…look, this is going to sound strange, but sometimes I caught you smelling like old frost, which kinda reminds me of them._

_You’re not involved with them, right?_ She asked, concerned. Sarah might have a very good control over her body language, but Darcy had lived with her for more than two years. She’d seen the slight twitch of a jaw, and the too-careful way her more thespian friend held herself.

_What, with those bruisers? Why the hell would I?_

_I don’t know._ Her friend sighed. _Maybe your relative had a debt to them and you’re trying to pay the loanshark back? I’m just trying to find an explanation_. _There’s also that new stranger to town you were talking to the other day. He’s dressed like them, might even be their ally._

She shrugged, remembering All-Blind. _Like I said, he’s just looking for a mutual acquaintance and I showed him the way—he left me alone after that_.

The portal thing her friend mentioned was also vaguely familiar for some reason. Sarah was still staring at her with doubt.

_What’s up, Spike? This is really getting to you isn’t it?_ Darcy asked. Her friend shook her head, as if to clear herself from some unseen cobwebs.

_I was the one who signed up our new girl_ , Sarah began suddenly, glancing at the blonde singer on stage. Darcy followed her gaze. _She was vomiting in the bathroom when I met her, her memory fuzzy. And you know what? She was quite sure she tangled with these blue giants before losing consciousness. Some kind soul probably dragged her in here. Or she found her way in._

_Maybe we should investigate—_

_No_.

Sarah seemed uncharacteristically stern about it. _Have you even explored outside alone? It’s a dangerous place, Darce, especially if you’ve never gone alone without a guide._

_I’ll be fine_ , she insisted. What was the difference between one city and another, anyway?

The other brunette seemed mildly amused, for all her severity. _Let’s see you try then. Go on. Walk to the next block_.

_You can’t get me to back down by daring me_.

_Oh, I’m_ not _, trust me. I’m just that certain that you’ll fail_.

It was an odd statement. She decided to do just that. What was so hard, anyway? She’d gone out and dragged two foolish cops in, she could very well walk around and see one of the two places that were trashed. From the pieces of conversations she could pick up from the patrons, she heard it was nearby. Darcy stepped out of the doors and walked under the falling twilight, ignoring the bustle of the city and the blurred shapes of the buildings across the road. People mostly minded their own business, but the serpent around her neck coiled tighter, wary. It made her a little more nervous as well. She turned right at the end of the block to continue following its edge, pausing for a moment when she thought she saw an interesting shop.

When she walked on again from the shop, she was right in front of the _Two Queens_ once more.

_What the hell?_

_It doesn’t work that way_ , the feathers around Sarah’s shoulders was the first thing that crept at the edge of Darcy’s vision before she turned and saw her friend standing idly by. _You have to either know where you’re going well enough to imagine it, or you have to have a guide. Otherwise you’d just get pulled back home. Or here, I suppose_.

_A guide_ , Darcy said, nonplussed. The worry in her friend’s expression didn’t disappear and merely deepened.

_Or something you can use as a lodestone from the other place you intend to visit, or a strong memory, which would work if you’ve been there. All that takes skill and isn’t for a newb, Darce. So please, promise me you won’t try it alone_.

There was a plea in her voice, yes, but for some reason Darcy knew that her friend wouldn’t stop her either if she insisted. She’d just get very worried.

Darcy sighed. _Fine. I’ll try not to_.

_Good! We can go together sometime if you want to and—_ Sarah winced, holding her head in her hands. Darcy frowned.

_What’s wrong?_

_Nothing. I mean, I just remember that I have stuff to do and—oh crap, I’m going off now. I’ll be back later, okay? Just…hang in there?_

Her friend dashed inside, cape flying behind her. It might just be her imagination, but she thought her friend was beginning to fade slightly. Her path was not difficult to trace past the doors and the mingling people. Sarah was nowhere in sight. The only thing she could catch in her friend’s trail was a single greyish blue feather. She sighed and pocketed it.

Seriously, why was she on the floor instead of making sure everything went smoothly in the backstage? She didn’t even know the name of their newest singer yet, she-of-the-domino-mask. So Darcy made her way there and in the shadowy corridors, the tall man with sharp suit of shadows easily caught her hand in his.

The only colour on him was his scarf of twilight and his emerald eyes.

There was a secret at the corner of his lips. The dexterity of his hands as he snagged a glass with his left hand from a passing waiter without looking or spilling the contents told her that he was best class of con men. He was one of those people who can arrive in a city empty-handed and still end up wining and dining with mayors and governors, slithering his way without resistance into high society and cutting deals left and right.

His expression was curious—she considered that as a far better thing than if he was in a mood.

( _Wait, how do I know how he looks like when he’s in a mood?_ )

_I tried finding you in your dream and couldn’t_ , he stated. _I’ve never thought you’d be—here_. She wouldn’t have noticed the odd pause if she didn’t know him so well. He said all this so casually that one couldn’t help but think he was merely talking about how the sun rose in the east and sets in the west, instead of something unaccountably strange. Yet for all his strangeness he was too _familiar_. His name was on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t summon it.

_My_ dream _? What are you talking about?_

He rolled his eyes. _We’re dreaming, remember?_

She tried to pull her hand away from his but he held it tight. He caught her doubting look and instead of backing down, he pulled her into his arms instead. His other hand covered her ear with the care of one cupping a butterfly and he spoke closely in a soft voice. Her body involuntarily relaxed against his and it was difficult to listen to the words when his solidness was so distracting. He did not even take this as unaccountably wanton, merely a sign to curl her tighter into him.

_You are Darcy Lewis of Midgard and also Darcy Regina among the companions of your youth, a scholar of Statecraft. You are as sisters to Jane Foster of Midgard who is a renowned Stargazer as well as friend and companion to her paramour Thor, Prince of Asgard_.

And then she _knew_.

She was not just a Darcy Lewis who grew up sneaking into clubs, dancing in dresses scandalously short showing her knees and listening to jazz. She was Darcy Lewis who’d grown up in a world where she can find everything at her fingertips, who’d chased storms, faced anomalies and argued with Norse gods—

She tilted her head, gazing into his green eyes. _Lo—_

He took the breath before it left her mouth by covering it with his own and she pulled him down without a thought. Her feathered serpent seems to gladly welcome him back as it sneaked around him too. His plummy-coloured scarf that was around his neck had slunk on to hers.

Wait, it was _hers_. It was that damned scarf she’d been looking for!

When she looked up, he took the serpent off from his neck and wrapped it around hers once more. He took the scarf, no, mink-weasel-something from her and the creature clung for another moment before letting go.

_That was my scarf_ , she was out of other things to say.

_It was something of yours_ , he replied, draping it around his neck once more, and she supposed that was a clear enough answer for him. Darcy folded her arms in a huff and turned away, trying not to overthink it and failing. She could almost hear his unsaid statement. ( _Something of you to keep close by_.)

( _All the world's a stage,  
and all the men and women merely players_ )

Loki was now the most solid person she could see among the many passing backstage as the unreal borders of the world around her became visible in her eyes. The colours were still bright, but now some people were as substantial as smoke, even if she could still touch them as they brush past her. She didn’t know how the apparent contradiction worked. Other people or objects glowed more than others but she had yet to discern the rhyme or reason. As for herself, she was certain she saw little specks of light on her skin—light traces of silver dust.

One blink and it all disappeared once more into the club she was all too familiar with. At the edge of her vision, she could still see the faint traces of their light.

_So,_ _where the_ hell _are we?_

The question gave him cause to grin. _Apparently, something you made_.

_What?_

_I am sure you will tire of that word at the end of the day faster than I do_ , he said, this time with a sigh _, but we have no time for idle explanations yet_. _I will take us to your dream and we can venture into mine from there if necessary, but the less time we spend in the Dreaming with you unawares, the better_.

She was familiar with the path they took. They took the stairs to the second floor and then all the way to the end of the hallway. Then, there would be the door that doesn’t look like a door.

The room behind it was her apartment in Stark Tower and he ushered her in. She didn’t hide her staring. She even looked out into the modern New York skyline in disbelief.

_Alright. I’m well and truly_ confused. _Why is this suddenly my apartment?_

_Because you expected it. You expected a different room before, one that would be appropriate for the dreamscape you came from. Thus, that was what you found_.

Darcy dropped herself on the purple couch, her serpent curling tighter around her as if trying to soothe its owner. She scratched it absentmindedly. Loki dropped himself next to her.

_You wish for explanations and I’d like to cover the essentials immediately. First, let us deal with the Dreaming or the In-Between. It’s the same thing either way. You have an idea of what it is already before. Now, tell me what it is._

_Um, someplace where all sorts of dreams meet? But it’s no one’s dream, or at least no one person is dreaming it_ , Darcy hazarded as she tried hard to remember. The explanation seemed to suffice; Loki didn’t expect her to say anything more as he continued his explanation.

_Then, there are personal dreams whose environment you can easily change with practice. Your room can change into your apartment, as you can see—this is your dream. You’ve been into my dream where I changed the location into my chambers at the palace_.

Darcy furrowed her brows. _I’m pretty sure that no normal people should be able to drop in into people’s dreams like that, or go out of their own dreams into the Dreaming. So…magic, then?_

He nodded. _You have magic now_.

She narrowed her eyes, sensing something. _Whose fault was it that I have magic?_

_It was an accident_.

_Lo—_

He kissed her again. Seriously, she has no problem in almost-saying his name if this was what she got for it, but she didn’t miss his annoyed look. _Fine, fine, I hear you, Silvertongue_. _But isn’t that a bit, well,_ long _? Don’t you have something shorter for when I have to yell your name while falling off a cliff?_

_Elopid is one. Coroné is what I usually use when in flight._

_Lope. Right. I can work with that_ , she said. He was staring at her oddly and she realised that the nickname also had echoes of its own when she said it. Damn, Loki must’ve been pretty badass, she thought. Even her shortening his nickname had _echoes_ and his aliases also had echoes of their own, if fainter.

_So, are you going to tell me whose fault it was that I got magic?_

He sighed. _Once more, it was an_ accident _._

_You know, something tells me that the chain of events in the accident began with you_.

She was getting _really_ familiar with his slitherer-outerer habits, and no, that wasn’t exactly a good thing. Darcy noticed that he didn’t really deny her accusation—it was probably closer to a ‘yes’ than a ‘no’, then, she thought privately. He stood up and offered her his hand before she could complain. _This is going to be easier than using mere words. I’ll show you_.

Darcy stood up and took his hand; she had the feeling that he wasn’t prepared to tell her about it any other way. He pushed the door leading to her bedroom and it led them to the very familiar snowy expanse they’d been before once more, with the foreboding mountains in the distance. Her clothes were noticeably thicker while his only had another layer over it. He ignored the bed of roses on the ground, though Darcy found herself unable to look away from the red breaking up the pristine white landscape. Walking some distance away from there was something she hadn’t expected to see.

It was a portal hanging in mid-air. Its borders were red and rippled fluidly as it rotated and creepily reminded Darcy of some sort of hell gate than anything (and hadn’t she seen it before? She had the weird sense of having seen something like it before). Yet Loki was anything but afraid and so she tried to hold back her unease while what was on the other side wasn’t visible. He walked around it once before he began to chant something long and incomprehensible to her.

The portal flashed and suddenly she could see the other side—it was the inside of a familiar building. Loki turned to her to unwind the feathered serpent from her neck—he ignored its hiss of protest before it disappeared in a flash of green. He did the same with his (her) scarf who wasn’t any less pleased with it.

_What—_

_Precautions. We’re visiting another’s territory. The less trace and identification of ourselves that we have, the better. The goal is to stay as unnoticeable as possible_.

_Who’s territory?_

He stepped forward into the portal before she even finished asking and Darcy didn’t have much choice but to follow suit.

The room they entered was the hallways of Stark Tower.

Every step they took there had a muted sound, as if coming from far away. The walls seem slightly greyish too. It was more than a little unreal and Darcy found herself hesitating in her steps. Loki noticed it as she had grabbed onto his hand in her nervousness and she was definitely holding him back.

_So, whose place is this? Lope, come on. We_ can _talk while we walk, you know?_

He sighed at her impatience. _It’s obvious, isn’t it? The genius loci’s_.

They entered his apartment and saw another Loki in the middle of the room. He didn’t seem to notice them even as Darcy compared the one standing beside her with him. The one beside her was grimmer in countenance. He was still in the suit she saw him in at the speakeasy instead of the Asgardian garb the other Loki was wearing.

_We’ve entered a memory_ , Loki said. _Watch_.

The writings and geometric drawings on the walls and floors were starker and more beautiful now without blood to mar them, and yet there was also that inexplicable glimmer of silver she thought she saw from them. It was an annoyingly familiar gleam. She knew there was a wind turning inside the room, but even when she thought she could feel it she was unaffected. Her hair was barely lifted.

She saw past-Loki taking out that toy ball he was always tossing around everywhere before it suddenly transformed into a chalice in his hands.

Darcy yelled. _I knew it! I knew you were going to go for that damned cup!_

He eyed her with curiosity. _You do?_

_Yes! That was the first thing I checked before I found you in the server room. But then I saw the cup was still there—_

_That was one of the balls I exchanged it with,_ Loki said casually. Darcy cursed her bad luck of missing his exploit by a hair’s breadth. _Do not regret it so much. It takes a highly skilled magician to notice the switch_ , he said.

Darcy, on the other hand, was cringing as she saw him cut himself and let the blood flow into the chalice.

_What is this, blood magic?_

_Yes. It’s only the oldest magic in the world_ , he said, far more casual about it than Darcy thought he should. _I had need to escape and this was the best tool at hand_.

_Why did you run?_ She asked.

He shook his head easily, a faint smile on his face. _That would be better for another day, wouldn’t it? We haven’t even answered your question about magic yet_.

She knew why he looked so smug, because he could imagine her frustration and knew that she could do nothing about it. _Urgh, fine_.

He fast-forwarded the scene with several gestures and the other Loki was already in the middle of chanting—his voice sounded distant and not as loud as it should be, but perhaps that was the effect of the memory. The air around them thickened but remained transparent instead of opaque. She had the impression the room had been filled with a light translucent gel than air and the glowing motes of dust and gossamer threads appearing and lazily floating around them did not dissuade from the sensation.

Darcy couldn’t help extending her hand and trying to catch them even when they seem to slip away from her fingers—some of the threads seems to be quite capable of winding around her fingers. Loki saw what she was doing three seconds later. For all his head-shaking and wordless look at her apparent childishness, she didn’t miss his small smile.

_What are these?_ She asked.

_Magic_ , he stated, and just before she stared him down once more, he explained. _It was gathering in the room and pouring into the chalice because I’ve successfully presented my claim to the_ genius loci _. It concluded that I am in the right in my wish to travel. Thus it assisted me, providing me with not a little magic as well as releasing any of its claims and ties on me_.

_The spirit of the land_ , she murmured, thinking.

Her eyes widened. _The freaking_ spirit of the land _helped you stage a prison break? I thought the spirits don’t really care for mundane-people concerns? And how did_ you _managed to convince it that you were_ good _, anyway?_

He suddenly laughed. She had never realised that he had so many pointed teeth. It was not as shark-like as All-Blind’s grin, but with the gleam in his eyes, he reminded her of creatures that had prowled age-old forests at night. She had no doubt that he could have slipped easily between shadows and somehow it didn’t frighten her. Darcy didn’t think twice about approaching him when he held her hands and reeled her in. If there was sentimental pop music playing, they were close enough in distance to slow dance.

_Ah, so you_ do _know something about them. Maybe you’ve been fated to be touched by magic._

She shook her head. _I’m sure it’s not that_. _I never liked being ignorant but I was worse as a kid. I get myself into all sorts of scrapes and my nose into everyone else’s business because I can’t_ not _know_. _I still do_.

_Knowledge Is power_ , he agreed, and she thought she heard admiration in it. She let her left hand fall over his shoulder, and yes, for some reason they were dancing to some music she couldn’t hear.

(But she knew the music was there, because her feet had never picked up the steps of a dance so quickly. She was also certain that the motes and strings pulsed with light and that there was a pattern to that too. There was something she wished to hum at the back of her throat, whose exact notes continued to elude her but that she was sure was _there_.)

_I think it has to do more with how ignorance is a prison you make yourself. I won’t ever be a prisoner if I can help it, least of all to myself_. Darcy answered.

_So, Lope, how did you do it?_

Loki did not stop her from using that nickname but he had to catch himself from stumbling in his movement. He seemed to expect her to have forgotten it already, never mind use it. Yet there was a new giddiness in his steps told her enough of his secret pleasure, as well as something _more_ that he’d left unsaid. It was there in his gait of a wolf and in the darkness contained within his lopsided grin; he couldn’t possibly pass as a regular human right now. For all his strangeness, Loki’s edges seem clearer and his steps more certain. She would say that he was more _him_ , if it made any sort of sense.

_I am quite aware of the covenant required to gain the respect and assistance any of the_ genii locorum _, and the range of possible interference_. His reply was casual. _But is that the question you wish to find the answer to right now? Weren’t you asking about why you had magic?_

_Dammit!_

He was much too amused by this. _Patience, Litavindr_.

She eyed him oddly. _What did you just call me?_

_Nothing much but what you are; the unexpected derailment of plans, the familiar face one doesn’t expect to see at the edge of the world, the eye of the bloody storm_. His answers threw her off guard. _Opportunity-Threat—I love that word from that eastern language most_. _Now, my past self is about to get riddled with holes but the answer should be coming soon_.

She saw the liquid inside the chalice as _silver_ instead of red, saw the joy and expectation of freedom in the other Loki’s face. The liquid then bubbled up into the air, unconstrained by gravity. She saw it form a ring, a sheet, a _door_. It looked exactly like the twin to the portal she’d just gone through, except that this one was fed by the chalice.

_One more step and he’ll be half-dead_. Loki commented.

_Lope!_

He shrugged, noncommittal. _Well, it’s true, Ikhne_.

She leaned her forehead against his shoulder instead, unwilling to see him hurt and holding back the urge to ask what that nickname just now meant. She was almost certain he did it on purpose to distract her (and damn him, it was working). _Just give me the play-by-play and tell me when it’s over and you want to show me whatever it is that you want to show me_.

  _Well_ , he said succinctly, _the cuffs fractured_.

_And?_

_The fragments fly as a thousand arrowheads in a hundred and one directions, mostly biting into my flesh._

Loki said all this with unconcerned aplomb. She had fully expected him to snipe about how Midgardians have weak stomachs or other insult, just because she couldn’t watch him with shit blowing up in his face. He didn’t say anything other than keeping a hand on her waist.

_After this, I do not know for certain and will have to watch with you. There, it is done and past me is not here anymore. If it is just me providing this or you, we would not be able to see this part. This is why it’s far more useful to step into the memories of the_ genius loci _than relying on our explanations, especially when the particular time and place we are looking for is fortunate enough to be within its attention at this moment to be this vivid_.

He paused.

_There goes the door_.

She heard the cracking of wood at the same time that he said it. Darcy stepped away from the circle of his arms with not a little regret and saw the door breaking down to pieces. Loki’s expression when he saw Thor stepping into his apartment was unreadable and she watched him as he watched his brother. He could not have been blind to how the scene struck Thor down, could he? He could not be completely unaffected—

Loki turned around swiftly and his dark coat billowed behind him. Darcy followed the source of his movements and saw herself from that night, standing there in shock before she rushed forward—

_I told you not to come_. Loki said.

His voice was hushed, but it was heavy with the weight of a thousand different things she couldn’t even begin to understand.

_Never was good at following orders when there’s no good reason for it_. She glanced once more to the bloodstained form of past-Darcy before looking away. The pool of blood still turned her stomach to see.

_Why did you…_

Past-Darcy ran right to the largest pool of blood. She knelt, drenching her jeans in the blood red and occasionally silver liquid. She could see all this from the corner of her eyes, but she refused to stare directly to it. Loki made a choked sound and almost froze in place. She tilted her head up and still he did not look at her. It was past-Darcy, then, that drew his attention.

_What…?_

_Look_.

His reply was short. She followed his gaze only to see _silver_ on her skin as she retrieved his brooch from where it was drowning. Something was flowing from the pool and it flowed _upwards_ , all those fine glowing threads spun up and she could see the silver on the edge of the spilled blood dimming. The threads reached out to past-her, invisible binds around her arms and her body forming. What Darcy wanted to do was to scream at herself to get away to—

Loki held her face in his hands, pulling her attention back to him.

_Now that I know what happened, we might as well take as much as we can. Remember that it won’t hurt you and hold that thought._ She hadn’t realised she was breathing rapidly until he was rubbing soothing circles into her back. _I’m afraid we don’t have enough time for explanations right now_.

He bodily picked her up and threw her into the pool with a splash. It was so quick she barely had any time to react.

Unexpectedly, Darcy began to sink into the floor even as she flailed. The pool of blood somehow had depths beyond the floorboards of the apartment and her limbs were as good as lead for all the help they’d given. Her head went under. She had expected to retch on the scent of blood, but it was distant now. There were more noticeable scents there, like the earth after a rain, the undefined zest in the air after a storm. Behind all of that and almost unnoticed was the eerie fragrance of eglantine. The liquid caressed her skin—strangely enough, it clung even less than water against her skin. As light faded the lower she fell, she began to be able to see glowing bubbles and dust motes all around her.

Those closest to her were sucked forward to her skin, tingling all the time. Darcy began to notice that the ones farther away were swimming in her direction too and with a rushing sense of panic she began to realise that she was the centre of an explosion in reverse. More and more of the bubbles crash into her, sending inexplicable jolts of electricity. It wasn’t exactly painful, but it was uncomfortable. Her skin felt like they were being stretched in several directions at once. She could see the roses on her arms once more, shining.

Darcy gagged on liquid, trying hard not to breathe in or swallow but not succeeding. The discovery that she could still, sort-of breathe it didn’t make it feel painful to inhale, or her gag reflex to disappear (she was pretty sure humans weren’t made to breathe _liquid_ once they’re grown). She was still coughing intermittently as she tried to float up once more.

Her brown hair spread around her in a regretful crown while the glowing foams and bubbles circled her with an unearthly glow. For all their help, they might as well be angels assisting the little mermaid ascension after her selflessness— _and dammit, I don’t want to be the little mermaid!_ Darcy had none of the calm as she fought the current, and yet down she still went, a dark sacrifice carried to the bottom of the sea by the flooding tide. Seen from underwater, Loki’s expression was strangely regretful. He certainly couldn’t regret the whole incident more than she did. Darcy growled, raising a fist to rail against him soundlessly.

_Get back here, you fucking bastard!_

‘-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger! *Author ducks thrown vegetables* I've always wanted to do that for some time, just to see what happens. 
> 
>    
> To the less mythologically inclined:
> 
> **_Helblindi_** is a character from Norse mythology, known brother of Loki and Býleistr, possibly son of Fárbauti and his wife Laufey. Of course, whether the two of them realise they're biological brothers in this story is a different issue. One of his known titles is 'All-Blind'. Oddly enough, this is also a title sometimes used for Odin, just because he only has one functioning eye. Then again, we're speaking of a world without political correctness, so it might just be the poetic equivalent of pointing out 'the blind guy' in the crowd because everyone else in the sagas has more-or-less baseline eyesight.
> 
> **_Angrboda_** , or more properly, _Angrboða_ is a female jötunn according to the _Prose Edda_. There are several offsprings (monsters) ascribed to have been born out of the union between her and Loki. She may be identical with _Iárnvidia_ , 'She of Iron-wood'; I used this interpretation in the story, Angrboda is indeed Mistress of Ironwood.
> 
>    
> The Weird and Random Glossary:
> 
> **_Elopid_ :** From the Greek _ellops_ , a kind of sea serpent.
> 
> **_Hvirfilbylur_ :** (Icelandic) whirlwind, tornado.
> 
> **_Jötnar_ :** (Old Norse) plural nominative case of _Jötunn_.
> 
> **_Jötnarnir_ :** (Old Norse) as far as my scatterbrained readings on Old Norse morphology goes, Jötnarnir is the plural nominative adjective of the singular _Jötunn_ . Anyone with a better grasp on Old Norse than I do should feel free to correct the declension if I got it wrong and explain how I messed up.
> 
> **_(All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players)_ :** Definitely not my original line there; Shakespeare from 'As You Like it'.  
>  
> 
> …what, you guys are wondering what Loki’s nicknames for Darcy means? Heheh, I’m not telling for a while. Not until Darcy figures it out either.


	25. XXV. Down the Rabbit Hole, Part 2 (Cause and Effect)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Loki is really bad at this gaining-and-keeping-trust thing. He also doesn’t know as much as he thinks he does. Shit happens. Darcy gets the explanation she was looking for, though not as much as she wanted._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Out of town again (this is an unexpectedly busy month). Updating early once more because there's stuff to do. The last scene in the chapter is an NSFW scene. Don’t skip reading the end bits, because there is a conversation after that, beginning when Loki said “This is a dream”.
> 
> Random weird note for this chapter: apparently, I find linear time to be boring.

### XXV. Down the Rabbit Hole, Part 1 (Friends, Rivals, Companions)

The not-water Darcy was not-drowning in was difficult to breathe in.

No matter how light it felt on her skin, the liquid was _heavy_. Her chest felt as if they were trying to suck in molasses. It didn’t seem to matter much that she swam casually, she could feel the beginnings of a strain on her chest muscles. She had to collect as much power in her diaphragm before every attempt to inhale if she didn’t want to tire herself out, forcing herself to do it slowly. Fear that she tried so hard not to acknowledge began to escape from the box she had shut it in, terror rippling through her skin. Darcy closed her eyes, desperately trying to calm herself down, trying to convince herself that she’d be _fine_ …

…something gentle brushed her forehead and then she stopped sinking.

She opened her eyes slowly to find herself suspended in the semi-transparent world of red. There was the strangest feeling of being cradled by immense hands and her chest hurt a little less.

But was it really hands? It might as well be the sun-warmed coils of a great Titanoboa, moving her up in great spirals. The softest susurrus of touches passing by her cheek could be the feathers of a bird lifting her in an updraft; the skitter of claws was the first among many clues that it is not _quite_ avian either, not as most people would recognise nowadays. And of course, there is always the slippery skin of what might be an eel’s tail passing just underneath her feet, though nothing was ever there when she looked.

The next thing she knew, she was buoyed _up_ —tossed away like so much beach ball by the leviathan.

Darcy dropped out of the weird not-blood with a soft plopping sound and fell upin the direction of the ceiling of Loki’s apartment. She would’ve crash landed too if Loki hadn’t caught her and she coughed up more of the weird fluid on the same damned ceiling.

They were both standing upside down.

There was no time to wonder why she was in a beautiful and ornate dress, the same way she didn’t think twice as to why Loki was wearing what seemed to be Asgardian formal wear either or why she wasn’t even wet. Darcy scrambled away from him when she was more settled and pulled her arm back.

She decked him.

Darcy also punched him one more time in the solar plexus just because she didn’t have her taser with her. It was with some satisfaction that she saw him stagger back. Tory would’ve reminded her not to get carried away by her temper, but all she was just thankful that her brother insisted she learn some self-defence and for teaching her the best moves he knew. Darcy fell to her knees—it was difficult to stay upright for long as she heaved more liquid out. Her stomach seemed intent to crawl up her throat, elbowing her lungs in the process and stepping on her liver with a vindictive kick. Her lungs felt like they were shoving back as rudely and was struggling to pass the same corridor.

Her eyes were watery. She would bet they were red and she looked like a banshee but she was past caring as she shouted at him (and possibly completing the similarity).

_What the fuck, Trickster?!_

She hadn’t missed the flicker of distaste when she used that particular nickname—perversely, it made her feel slightly better. She was almost sure he could’ve avoided both hits but he didn’t even raise a hand to defend himself as he cautiously approached her.

The upside down room really didn’t improve her mood. She would have gone dizzy from the view if she wasn’t already nauseous enough. She couldn’t be gladder that Loki’s living room was devoid of furniture.

_You didn’t have enough magic inside you_. He said.

_What?! What the heck does that mean?_

Loki sighed and to take two steps back as she stood up, probably to avoid getting punched _again_. He had no right to look that tired—he wasn’t the one who’d been drowning in questionable blood! Darcy avoided looking at the upside down skyline behind him (and how the sky looked like an bottomless abyss from this angle) before she had the urge to vomit again.

_Would you let me explain or do you still need to hit me before you will even listen?_

She hated that he could look so calm about it. Perhaps because it didn’t matter that much to him and this was just business as usual. Weren’t maidens used to be sacrificed to the gods? Maybe she was just one out of many he’d flung into deep waters in magical rituals.

_You drowned me! You could’ve killed me!_

His eyes were cold and controlled, but she could see that he was holding back annoyance all the same. She felt less insecure at the thought that she still affected him.

_I didn’t. The waters wouldn’t have harmed you—it’s a magical reservoir now, not any mundane fluid. I said much the same beforehand, didn’t I? Oh, wait, you have just realised now that you’ve placed your trust in the wrong person? A little too late for regrets now, isn’t it?_ He mocked.

It cut too close to the bone.

Darcy bristled at how close his guess was, but she didn’t say the first thing impulsive thing she wanted to do. If there was anything Darcy was pretty good at, it was at never meeting anyone’s expectations. She did what had always served her well instead; she _observed_. Soon enough, she noticed the taut lines of his shoulders and the grim air that hung around him. It made her feel a little better because her throat was still fucking sore from all the gagging and her chest wasn’t much better.

If she was the sacrifice he’d intended, he really should look happier about it—or just shove her back in the moment she fell out of the weird waters. Or he could have held her head down, the more morbid side of her noted. There really was no reason for him to look so bleak about this. She rubbed her forehead and sighed, half of the anger escaping with her breath. Why did she always end up with the most difficult people for company? Oh, yeah, because she had the attention span of a wombat and they were the only ones interesting enough to hold her attention.

_Yes, yes it’s too late_. She replied softly to his question. _And I still return that trust to you for now_.

It was clear that she surprised him, so much that he forgot whatever retort he had.

The brunette closed her still-stinging eyes. She wasn’t sure if she could keep her voice even if she didn’t concentrate on it right now, at least at the beginning. She can’t afford to see him yet and she wouldn’t pretend she didn’t feel what she felt.

Darcy was never one for lies, not even to herself. She wasn’t going to lie to him.

_You can explain about it all, I’ll listen properly this time. I promise._ Darcy said, slowly. _It didn’t change the fact that I felt betrayed for a time there. You’ve managed to hurt me with that—congratulations, by the way! I don’t let many people close enough to manage that most of the time_.

She opened her eyes. Her smile was brittle and she didn’t manage to keep the bitterness from her last sentence and sharpen her own pain into a weapon against him. Darcy was generally kind, but Sarah taught her how even kindness has its own cruelty when one knows how to look, and she couldn’t help but use it now. Darcy used what she knew of how he avoided apologies to spear him with what little guilt he had. Perhaps she’ll regret it later. For now, she relished the fact that it was his own unwillingness to lance his own wound that allowed it to fester, allowing her to wield it against him.

Loki was turned away from her, but she didn’t miss the way his hand tightened against his forearm. She moved to be face to face with him once more and met his gaze without flinching. He was tense, more so than she was.

Her guess was right—he wasn’t completely unaffected.

_We’re out of time here_ , he simply stated. _We can’t stay_.

_So the explanation will have to be done elsewhere, then, okay_ , Darcy finished for him. Her voice was colourless. It was kinda sad that she knew him well enough to know what he didn’t say.

Loki paused and stared at her curiously while she took his hand without another thought to walk ahead—perhaps he still expected her to be angry or obstructive, but she could acknowledge his point even if she wasn’t very pleased with him. If he said they didn’t have enough time, then there was probably a good reason behind that; he was the magician here (she _can_ be mature, y’know, she’s just not often in the mood for it).

He didn’t pull his hand away from hers and she could feel him holding her securely instead. Darcy avoided the lights on the floor (ceiling). It took some effort to not to think about how weird it was to have to step over the raised doorframe to get through doors. She had only begun to notice that her dress glimmered from certain angles (and she couldn’t be happier that it was _purple_ ). Sometimes, she would swear parts of it _floated_ as she walked, but it was mostly the train and she never saw it except at the corner of her eyes. She might still be imagining it but it wasn’t something she’d bet on.

_Alright, how do we get out of here?_ Darcy asked.

_Find a door and think of a way back to your dream_ , he replied, his voice still too neutral in their uncomfortable truce.

They were in the hallways once more. She had to wrack her brain for several seconds to remember that she was on the _ceiling_ so her room should be in the _other_ direction, not the one she’d almost taken automatically. _Right is left and left is right,_ she took a deep breath, _oookay._ She couldn’t help but stare at the carpet above her head ( _ceiling_ ).

_Urgh, it’s like a mirror universe in here_ , she complained.

_It is not an inaccurate description_ , he conceded.

_Do I have to open the damned door upside down?_

This time, he was the one who pulled her by their joined hands. Loki casually stepped up _sideways_ on the wall and Darcy glared at him. _How is that even possible?!_

_We reached this place through the In-Between, remember? This is not the physical world—different rules apply_.He reminded her, tugging her once more by the hand. _Besides, you do have some magic now. Even if it’s useless when you’re awake, it should be easier here_.

She took a deep breath. _Right. Give me your other hand too. At the very least, I’m dragging you down with me if I fall_.

Darcy thought she managed to glean a smile from him before it vanished once more, but he did give her his other hand and she gingerly stepped on the wall. She tried running up, but Loki caught her before she could try that. She was clinging to him with an embarrassing desperation as gravity made less sense.

_You’re panicking. It works even less if you did_ , he said.

_Well you’re clearly not making me panic less!_

_For the love of Yggdrasil—close your eyes and follow my lead. Open it once you feel better_. She did, but she didn’t let go her left arm from around his waist. He didn’t even complain about how she was slowing him down while clinging like a limpet as she was half sure he had to half-drag, half-carry her over. She opened her eyes once she felt more secure. Her room was just before the corner to the elevator and yet it never seemed farther than when one was walking sideways on the wall. Loki unerringly led them back to the actual floor.

Darcy could kiss him just for that (though she didn’t. She was still pissed off).

_I’m glad that was over_ , she muttered—and promptly jinxed herself as someone running over the corner crashed into her. She stayed upright somehow though the pain of the impact jarred her to the bone. The poor man fell down with a pained groan, especially as his bag dropped on his leg. She would have been more sympathetic if she wasn’t sure she was bruised in several places.

_Watch where you’re going, will you?_ She growled.

_Sorry!_ He tried to stand up before wincing as he placed his weight on the wrong foot. A broken pair of glasses fell close to her and she picked that up. _Sheesh, did you wear armour under all that, lady? I think I hurt all over_.

Darcy rolled her eyes, offering him his spectacles. She would comment that she was barely that impressive to have toppled him, but then Loki placed a hand over her arm. All of her annoyance disappeared at his unreadable expression.

_No one’s supposed to be able to see us in a memory_ , Loki stated.

_Look, I’ll leave you folks to go to your fancy dress party, but could you at least tell me where the emergency on this floor is?_ The man gratefully accepted the offered glasses while Darcy stared at him with uncertainty. He looked vaguely familiar.

_There is nothing more you could do. Whatever it is, it’s done by now_ , Loki dismissed. He ignored the annoyed look the man sent him.

_Maybe we’re not in a memory?_ Darcy guessed. She ignored Loki’s disbelieving snort and turned to the stranger. _Hey, I know you. John, right? Crime scene technician?_

The man looked confused and not a little wary.

_You know, you were looking for apartment number eight earlier_ , Darcy said. She hadn’t had time to say anything else or even ask why he didn’t know her when he was so positive that he had before. Loki had linked her arm with his, gave the technician a mysterious grin, and proceeded to walk backwards _into_ the door of Darcy’s apartment. He pulled her with him.

John the technician gave a rather high-pitched yelp, looking as pale as if he’d seen a ghost and he scrambled back from them with wide eyes. Loki grinned halfway into the door and even Darcy had to admit that was creepy.

_There is_ nothing _you could do for me or the lady here. You understand that, right?_

From John’s perspective, she supposed they _were_ kinda like ghosts.

Sinking into wood and out of it again was a _lot_ more unpleasant than sinking into the weird not-blood. It felt thicker than tar and just as unwilling to let anything pass. She pitied all those dinosaurs that died in tar pits now if this was how it felt. Darcy was sure she had to jostle the bad-tempered material with her knees and elbows a bit to get out promptly into her apartment on the other side instead of being stuck like frozen Han Solo in the middle. Darcy held her breath just to be safe. Who knows what breathing in _wood_ , even in a dream, would do?

_Seriously, what the hell?_ Darcy asked.

_Something’s wrong_ , Loki’s words were rapid now. The cool façade he wore was slipping and it made her feel even more uncertain. Darcy followed him as he paced in front of the coffee table. _We_ can’t _be seen in a memory because we_ weren’t _here. It’s already done. This doesn’t make sense._

_So you got us away,_ she said, slowly. _So if you’re freaking out, I think the best thing to do now is to skedaddle as fast as we can_.

Darcy could hear the creak of her bathroom door—she’d recognise that sound anywhere. A strong feeling of déjà vu hit her. She stood right in front of Loki, both of her hands desperately on his shoulders.

_Lope! Look at me. Don’t even look behind me, okay? Just keep looking at me_.

She could hear footsteps now, footsteps that slowed to a halt as the owner thought she was lost in memory.

_Now please, please tell me that you can make both of us vanish from sight right now?_

He was clearly curious but he didn’t question her. _I can. Now?_

_Now. Please._

Perhaps it was the desperation in her voice, but she could see his left hand moving in several lazy flicks and the feeling of a breeze blowing past her from her head to her toes and a shimmer of green. Loki was semi-transparent now.

_I could still see you_ , she commented. He rolled his eyes.

_It would be useless if you couldn’t, wouldn’t it? But no matter, we’re both invisible now_.

She relaxed and stepped away. She knew she had been blocking him from view before, and now they both can see the back of past-Darcy as she stepped out of the apartment. Darcy sympathised with the poor technician she had bumped into a lot more now.

_Your past self had passed_ , Loki commented. _And you panicked. Why?_

_Because I remember this! I saw us when I walked out of the bathroom, but it was a little blurry that I thought it was just my imagination._ She was gripping him by the lapels now and he didn’t object, only frowning even further. _And I remembered meeting that poor technician when I walked out! No wonder he was freaking out when I first saw him—the first time he saw me, I walked through a door right in front of his face!_

He eased her fingers away gently. She dropped her head against his chest feeling too confused and spent. As incomprehensible as Loki was, he was also the only certainty she had in this ever-shifting illusionary world and she _did_ trust him, more than she trusted going at it alone.

_I don’t know how it happened, but we’re in the past_ , she murmured.

Even before she finished her sentence, Loki had grabbed her hand and walked all the way to her bedroom door. He pulled it closed without walking through the doorway.

_I am reminded once more that there is a strong reason most people avoided theurgy unless there are no other options._ He said in a low voice. His rapid comment after that sounded like something aimed at himself and the words brought back the ice-cold fingers of fear over her heart. _How did I forget that most genii locorum exists in at least four dimensions and usually more? Careless, utterly careless…_

Panic entered her voice. _Lope?_

_Think of your establishment_ , Loki ordered. _Now. The sooner we leave, the better. Close your eyes. Imagine the interior, the people enjoying themselves with the music and the drinks whose ingredients everyone pretended they didn’t know of. For all the raucous dance floor and your incomprehensible taste in the species you employ—_

_—the goblins are completely_ fine _!_ Darcy defended. You _were the one who taught them how to be bookies for chicken races!_

He shrugged, as if _that_ wasn’t his fault, but his grip on her hand remained solid and comforting.

_—the people who came there are_ content _there. You keep the plodding fools that call themselves the law enforcement at bay. This is a little kingdom you’ve made for yourself and it is waiting for your return. There. Open your eyes and project that beyond the door. Ready?_

She steeled herself and nodded. She wouldn’t know until she tried, anyway. With her hand on the handle of the door, Darcy pushed and willed herself to be back at the _Two Queens_.

Darcy was never so glad to see the small walls and rickety floor of her hidden room at the end of the second floor hallway of her club.

‘-

Darcy stopped questioning all the costume changes she went through by now. Like how she was wearing a shorter dark purple dress once she stepped through instead of the more regal Asgardian one. Loki was back in his suit of shadows and scarf. When the feathered serpent returned around her neck, it was even stranger to realise that she had missed the comfort of its solid weight around her. She dropped herself on the bed with a tiredness that was more mental than physical.

It pleased her when the critter hissed with distrust at Loki who had summoned the only chair in the room to a spot near the bed. He only rolled his eyes at the display.

_Aww, you know who pissed me off just now, don’t you? Clever, loyal Snakey_. She crooned, scratching the creature. Loki gave her a disbelieving look.

_You’re not giving it such an undignified name, are you?_

_Why not? He’s mine now, right? I could do what I want. You like the name, don’t you, Snakey? Snakey’s a perfectly nice widdle snakey name_ , she cooed in baby talk. Loki looked affronted. She was sure that he was prepared to go at length about it, at least until he saw that Darcy was clearly trying to hold back her laughter. He huffed.

_Very droll, Litavindr_.

_Ha! You fell for it, didn’t you, Mischief?_

His expression was long-suffering, with a hint of disbelief at how childish she could be, but she swore she could see an almost-smile hiding somewhere in there. The creature around his neck was playfully trying to chase her own tail and in doing so rotated around him. Darcy laughed freely. His slighted look was back, at least until he realised the source of her laughter and he held the weaselly thing still.

_I swear she doesn’t have any dignity_ _sometimes_.

She shrugged. _Dignity is overrated_.

The silence stretched between them and it wasn’t as uncomfortable as she thought it would be. Darcy kicked her shoes away and placed the serpent around one of the bed posts, ignoring its protests and efforts to slink back on to her. _Stay. No, no, no,_ stay.

Then, she turned to Loki.

_Sit with me_ , Darcy said.

This time, she was the one who offered her hand at him, her expression open and unguarded.

_Please_.

His steps faltered, astonishment was written clearly over his features. A myriad of emotions passed too quickly for her to discern, but she did caught the bittersweet one. She didn’t like the one that finally settled on his face—it looked too much like goodbye. Darcy stood up instead before he could say anything, taking his hand in hers and pulling him to sit by her side. There was no way he could teleport anywhere without carrying her with him, so hopefully he wasn’t thinking of any last-ditch plans to scram (she imagined Sarah would take a good look at him and mutter something about _conflict avoidance behaviour_ ).

He’d picked up his scarf and dropped it somewhere on the bed and eased an arm around her without thought.

_Now, I know we’re not done with the explanation yet_ , Darcy said.

_One of these days, your trust will kill you_. His voice held more promise than she’d like.

_It’s my own life to use as I want_ , Darcy answered casually. She didn’t care if he was staring at her as if she was life’s own mystery and his personal demon in one.

_And you choose to throw it away right now?_ He asked.

She wanted to say that he wouldn’t be here if he didn’t have some measure of trust in her too, that he could’ve just run away and maybe never contact her again, never promise any explanations. Yet she couldn’t say that—she didn’t dare to now. She wasn’t sure if he was even aware of the weight of what he was giving her.

Darcy closed her eyes with guilt. She was selfish when it comes to her friends; she _knew_ this. The last time she pointed out that he actually _cared_ for her, she’d short-circuited him. If it took her not saying inconvenient things right now to keep their friendship, she would.

_I prefer the truth no matter how painful than living a peaceful life in blissful oblivion. You know that. One of these days, maybe you’ll learn that you can’t stop me from asking my questions and to just give answers_. She said idly. _Who knows? Maybe an old serpent_ can _learn new tricks after all_.

That got her a retaliating poke on her left side and she yelped before smacking his thigh. He _knew_ that she was ticklish.

_So, how about that accident where I gained magic, then?_ Darcy asked.

_You’ve seen it yourself—I spilled more blood than was necessary and they were still highly potent with the spirit of the land’s magic in them._

_So you drowned me in it?_

He was tickling her again and this time she paid back by ‘accidentally’ shoving her right elbow into his ribs. Unfortunately his other hand was faster and had caught it before any contact occurred.

_You_ didn’t _drown._ He replied testily. _It’s the only way I could think of on the spot to ensure a large part of the remaining magic left jumped into you. There is probably not much left in the puddles now._

_Why would it need to do that?_

He thought over it carefully and she waited.

_Because you had the wrong amount. Too much to be easily ignored and absorbed and too little to stabilise. You’d end up leaking all over. It might even leak your life force along with it until you died_. He was very matter-of-fact about it but Darcy couldn’t suppress a shiver and she instinctively leaned into him. Loki simply pulled her tighter against himself. _If you had_ more _magic, it will have enough weight to pool together and stabilise_.

_Really?_ She asked, sceptical.

_Imagine a small pond near the course of a large meandering river. It is there now and for a few years, but in the course of time it can easily be reabsorbed into the river as it changes course and disappears again—_

_—but rivers don’t change course that quickly._

_—not by your lifetime, maybe._ He corrected. It was in moments like these that she realised how differently they see the world.

_They change often enough for me. In the maps in the palace, especially of far-flung lands that are not visited, often it’s not just the last known course of any river is drawn there. The rivers’ past courses are usually also included. For better-known places, sometimes the predicted, possible courses in the future are also scribed in._

_It is much the same with young cities, especially those of the various shorter-lived species. Within decades, they can die off easily or just as suddenly sprout two or three siblings in the vicinity. In any map, there are always notes stating how old any particular small city is—and how long one can be certain that it will_ definitely _still be there, barring catastrophic mishaps_. His voice was conversational as he described this.

_Of course when the map is made in a hurry, sometimes they don’t bother even writing smaller cities down._

Darcy’s eyes widened. _Seriously?_

She didn’t protest when he easily picked her up and placed her on his lap. He leaned back against the headboard, propped by pillows and tucked her head under his chin. His boots had disappeared from who-knows-when. Occasionally, she wondered whether she should complain that he had a habit of absently holding on to her like a child with a plush toy, but she was too comfortable inside his arms to care.

_Let me tell it differently, then._

_Imagine the well maintained gardens of a great lord, frequently open to his friends. You would remember that there is an open plain convenient for revelry by the river, or the hills with the perfect view. They would certainly be marked on the map of the palace. Say, you have a favourite bush, richly yielding in berries and convenient for shade and cover. It is a simple pleasure to sit and read beside it on summer days. Yet would you be surprised to find that it is gone when you haven’t visited for more than five years?_

She was reminded of the fact that there are probably empires out there that he’d seen come and go too. How many river courses had Loki seen change? Or cities rise and fall? She was quiet for some time while he continued to speak.

_Now, imagine a lake near the same meandering river. The river can change its course over decades and even link with the lake. But the lake is large enough to not be easily overrun. The river in the neighbourhood will have a wider embankment than in others—the lake is still visible even as it became part of the river. In the future, as the river meanders once more and takes a different path, the mere may even be cut away from the river again and exist as a lake once more_.

_When it comes to magic, this is why it’s much safer for you to have a large amount of it than something of the middling range—which, unlike small amounts, has enough power to easily poison as well as mend. Pour large enough amounts and it will be much more stable and less prone to lashing out or leaking. There will also be enough power gathered in one place that it will begin adapting your physical body to the presence. It will settle down to its new vessel as time goes by. Even if you’d never manage to use it in your lifetime, I can still draw it out from you if necessity requires it in dire circumstances._

Darcy was silent for several moments. That is, until she realised what he was saying. She elbowed him. Not hard, but enough to annoy. Loki hissed.

_You’re turning me into a magical thermos?!_

The Asgardian turned the words carefully in his mind. When the meaning hit him, he _laughed_. She was glad that he was more relaxed, really, but could he _not_ be laughing about her?

_A magical drinking horn? If it will reduce the possibility of you being dead, why not? Life gets boring without interesting company._

She could feel the rumble of his chest behind her as she scrambled to turn around and have _words_ with him. Unfortunately, Loki simply tightened his arms around her and she could barely move. Some part of her wanted to stop and just snuggle back because his embrace was comfortable, but Darcy was nothing if not stubborn.

_Lope! Lemme go!_

_Not until you calm down, Ikhne_.

She paused immediately, her curiosity overriding everything else as it found something to grab. _What does that mean? And that other one, the Lita-thing?_

_Litavindr and Ichneumon_. _Nicknames._ He said, simply. Her hair stirred at his breath. Darcy gently, very slowly, turned herself around. He didn’t even try to hold her back, only mildly curious. She settled for opening the buttons of his shirt at her leisure as she straddled him. His fingers instinctively twitched against her thighs and her skirt rode up.

She licked a line up his chest and ended it with a bite to his collarbone. His hip jerked forward and Darcy had to clamp down a moan and reciprocate, at least until he forcibly stilled himself. All she felt was regret from the loss of friction as a pleasant buzz began to develop behind her ears. She lost track of the room, her focus narrowing down to the muscles she could subtly feel as her hands caressed his chest.

_Still too much fabric_ , she murmured, to herself.

_Litavindr—_

_I want answers, Lope_. She whispered this to the skin of his neck. Darcy didn’t miss the way he swallowed at that. _What does Lita mean?_

_Little_ , he answered quickly as her teeth scraped his throat. He was holding her hip in a death grip now and she was almost certain it would leave marks. Instead of discomfited, she sighed and pressed herself closer at the implicit promise that it was. She could hear his voice turning lower as she did that. _Because one should never forget for your ability to cause chaos no matter how small you are. You’re a storm eyelet—_

She bit his neck and the words disappeared into a growl. Loki rolled them over in one smooth movement and her blood sang with the feeling of his weight pressing on top of her. As he poured his frustration in a bruising kiss, she arched herself, pressing as much of herself against him as she could while the tension pulled her tighter than a bowstring. The tension snapped as his questing hand reached for her, slipping underneath her underwear into her slick heat. Her mouth formed a little _oh_ , and for all the softness of his lips they were unrelenting in their hunger—but she couldn’t fear it when it matched hers in intensity. His fingers curled inside her and she moaned into his mouth. He took her supplication with certainty and want. It was a jolt of bliss, a little piece of this delicate and yet unexpectedly resilient unnamed thing between them that was more than friendship but was not quite anything else, formless and yet ever-changing.

Darcy sank her nails into his back to encourage him to replace his finger with something else, but he seemed to have a liking for the taste of her desperation as he strung her along with enough to whet the appetite but not enough to satisfy. She keened in frustration—she could feel something rubbing against her thigh and the mere thought of taking him, the anticipation that was met with _nothing_ and not quite enough was driving her nuts.

_Lope, goddamit just_ move _!_

He chuckled, dark and teasing. _I like you,_ he said with a bite to her jaw, _just where you are right now_.

_Lope. Please, please, please, PLEASE. Want more._ Need _more_.

_I think you can do better than that_.

She cursed him vehemently and he laughed again, light as the wind.

Loki knew just which way to play her nub to turn her into a puddle in his arms. Her kisses became more frantic, but she was nowhere near sloppy yet. Darcy drew her considerable skill to take his lips as if there were nothing sweeter that she knew, and sucked his tongue so thoroughly she might as well be fellating it. He groaned and the sound wreaking havoc with her mind. His eyes were dark, feverish and wild. There was nothing more beautiful for her to see than the hunger he was having trouble leashing.

With all the wanton _please_ and _more_ and _let me have you, all of you_ , as well as all the ways she would like to have him, he could not have endured the onslaught of her sweet nothings and filthy promises much longer. Not when she pleaded with the full power of her dark eyes and lush lips, calling every endearment she could remember and making up more as she went along, and was he really going to leave her a hot and unsatisfied mess like this? Not when she’d been trying to rub against him just right.

It really was impossible for him to hold out against her for long. When he did finally take her, she was sure all the nerves on her skin flared at once, dizzying in their exultation. She gladly drowned in the sensations, moving with him as he made sure he penetrated her deeply and thoroughly. His teeth found her lips again, her neck, his bite should’ve been frightening but Darcy tossed her head back with pleasure instead and called out his name. It should’ve been scary to know that it would be so easy for him to take her life, but she only felt bliss and the simple joy that came with the realisation that he was exactly where she wanted him.

His movements were harder now, rougher as control escaped them, but she couldn’t care less as she dragged him back into her overwhelming kisses again and again. Her nails scored lines everywhere, every time he hit the right spot to give her a gratifying buzz, or when she found the right places to suck under his jaw that would make his thrust stutter for a moment before he went at twice the speed.

They drew sensual delights from each other and took it with equal greed; but there was gratitude and generosity in the mutual taking and reciprocity, and that perversely it was not dissimilar to a mutual giving. She lost track of who came first, lost in the endless spiral of pleasure, and only noticed that they still enjoyed each other’s company too much to part. He was inexplicably still hard inside her. He saw the question in her eyes and gave her the answer once they had their breathing in order. The other weird thing she noticed was how she was barely tired.

_This_ is _a dream, hjartað mín. If you are aware that the world is yours to change…_

She tilted her head to the side as he nuzzled her neck. _You mean we can change_ that _? Like,_ biology _? That’s_ really _convenient_ , she murmured, eyes drifting close. _I’m really not complaining, mind you_.

_Very convenient_ , he replied. _Though only in your personal dreams, mind you_. His hands explored her with languid caresses. She did much the same with the planes of his chest and the muscle of his shoulders that she could feel under the bandages—he had pulled her hands away from it easily when she tried to change it, citing that one of the conveniences of knowing how to walk the In-Between was the awareness that he didn’t have to feel his body’s pains if he didn’t want to.

Darcy was very aware that they were going to go for round two soon enough.

_And why the avoidance of real names, Silvertongue?_

His hair was tickling her shoulders and she caught a sharp intake of breath from him when she ran her nail over his nipple.

_Names have far more power here than over there_. He replied. _To go into more detail is to discuss the basic principles of how the world works_.

_Magic?_ She asked. She ignored the amused smile on his face because he really was explaining. She could tolerate him being occasionally smug in return for getting answers.

_Not_ merely _magic, Litavindr. To the short-sighted, perhaps that is all it is. To those who know better, however, it is far more fundamental…_

She sighed. She understood what he meant—it would probably take too long to begin.

_So, what does Ichneumon mean?_

_Your scarf is soaked with your presence and the same magic. It has…changed. What it is_ now _is a reflection of your potential_ , he had pulled away and was licking circles over her breasts and it was so tempting to simply sink her hands into his hair and not think. But she wanted answers and she was damned if she didn’t try her best. She stroked his calf with her toes, feeding off his contented hum.

_I suspect it’s your first animal shift. Hypothetically, that is. Considering how long it will take to learn the art, there are no guarantees that you’d be able to do so within your available lifetime_.

_More like a spirit animal, then? Not really intimidating, is it, the weaselette?_ She muttered. There was a wry twist to his smirk that he didn’t explain.

_It is not a weasel, Litavindr; it is Ichneumon._ Do _remember that appearances can deceive_ , he answered. Yet beyond that, he said nothing more. She glared at him and pushed him over, exchanging their positions. He was looking much more interested than intimidated. Not that it was an inaccurate reaction as she was clearly intent on straddling him.

_Well, let’s see how far the ‘not getting tired’ thing actually lasts, shall we?_

His answering grin was dark and unrepentant.

‘-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My updates are slowing down after this because I haven't had enough time to write buffer chapters (I'm only somewhere in the early XXX). So, I'll be focusing on building that up again before I upload new chapters.
> 
> The Weird and Random Glossary:
> 
> **_Titanoboa_ :** the name’s actually pretty representative of the creature. An extinct genus of snake from the Paleocene epoch, it lives 60 – 58 million years ago (mya). The only specimen found is the largest, longest, heaviest snake ever discovered. Basically the king of snakes.


	26. XXVI. The Continuation of Politics by Other Means, Part 1 (Best Laid Plans)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Darcy gets the day’s breaking news. Lines are drawn. Maria Hill poses a question to Natasha Romanova. Loki is somewhere else._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating at an idiosyncratic time because I'm not feeling well (I wish this low grade fever would just get a move on). I have _finally_ stopped messing around with chapter 26 and 27 - there was a scene that I was waffling whether to include here or move it forward. It's resolved now. 
> 
> This is a pretty short chapter, but it does wrap things up for now and opens up new plot directions. Not sure when the next one's coming up, though. It's still a bit...knotty there.

### The Continuation of Politics by Other Means, Part 1 (Best Laid Plans)

Darcy woke up to the sound of someone trying to pummel her apartment door into submission. She took pity on the poor slab of wood and got out of bed.

“Sheesh, I’m coming, I’m coming!” She grumbled something about people not letting her get enough rest. It was sometime at five in the afternoon, so she supposed she must’ve slept awhile after she returned from the labs with Tony and Natasha—must’ve been some really good sleep because she _did_ feel better. She pulled a sweater over her tank top and stared blankly at her tiny shorts. _Change? Don’t change?_

Darcy placed the bluish feather she was holding aside on some random surface. Light flakes of snow fell outside the window, _huh, and here I thought the weather report only said cloudy this morning_.

As interesting as it would be to get Tony to appreciate her legs if he happened to be the one knocking, she wasn’t sure it would impress Natasha. Actually, wait, she’d just feel pretty insecure in front of the redhead super assassin with curves and legs like _whoa_ if she was actually there. That clinched Darcy’s decision to put on the first jeans she could find.

She marched to the door as the knocking picked up again and pulled it open.

“Jane?” Darcy said curiously, a little to the left and there was Thor too, sheepishly swinging Mjölnir over one shoulder. The brunette stared at her friends who were grinning awkwardly in the corridor.

“Wait, were you guys about to _break my door down_?”

“You weren’t answering calls to your phone,” Jane said in a hurry. “Or messages either. One of the crime scene people who came to apartment eight said that he saw people that looked suspiciously like Loki and _you_ melting into _walls_. What was I supposed to think??”

“We were worried, Lady Darcy.” Thor added.

“Ah, _that_ ,” Darcy said, not sure if she should have said something else. Some part of her brain already knew what happened and wasn’t the slightest bit surprised. She wasn’t quite sure just yet what it was exactly that she knew, though. It was still…coming together, muddled and mixed with the strangest of dreams.

Jane seemed visibly put down by her apathetic reaction and Darcy sighed.

“Look, I’ve just woken up, okay? My brain’s still booting up and everything. Why don’t you guys come in while I wash my face or something and then you can tell me the whole story inside?”

She moved away and let her friends come in. She tried to remember where she dropped her cell phone before wincing at the number of missed calls and messages there. _Yeah, definitely not checking that right now_.

“Anyway, what’s the fuss? I’m only gone from this morning. Why call the cavalry?

Jane opened her mouth to say something but no words came out and she closed it again. Darcy was only half aware of all this as she decided to brew some coffee. Who cares if it was five in the afternoon? She’d just woken up. She deserved a good cup of joe. She might even decide to make it unadulterated and almost as thick as the paint-stripper that Jane preferred to drink.

“Darcy, you were out of contact for more than twenty four hours,” Jane said.

Darcy blinked. “I only slept this morning—”

“No,” Jane said, gently this time. “If you slept as soon as you came back from the labs, then that would’ve been yesterday morning.”

The spoon Darcy was holding clattered on the floor.

‘-

Sometime between preparing a pot of coffee and mindlessly going through her fridge (she found a bunch of grapes on a bowl), she found that she could begin piecing her dreams together. From the nightmarish drowning scene—and how _Loki_ threw her in, she remembered the new blonde singer at the speakeasy. She remembered guiding the blue, alien-looking All-Blind to a bleeding Loki. Then, there was the pretty memorable last part.

( _This_ is _a dream, hjartað mín. If you are aware that the world is yours to change…_ )

Darcy pinched the bridge of her nose. Alright, so she _liked_ sleeping with Loki (or more correctly, all the other not-sleeping activities that can be done on a bed). What else was new? Though to be honest, having mind-blowing, lucid dreaming sex _was_ new. She would be lying if she said she didn’t welcome it.

“You really don’t need to do that,” Jane said, but she accepted her cup gratefully all the same. Darcy shook her head as she passed Thor his.

“It was more for me, anyway. My head’s still half-lost in dream land right now.”

She saw the glance that Jane and Thor exchanged. Darcy sighed.

“So, which of you guys want to start your story first? I went to sleep yesterday morning. Okay. What did I miss?”

“You know the portals we found, Darce?”

She nodded. “Yeah?”

“They connect to Jötunheim,” Jane blurted out, “home of the frost giants.”

“O…kay?” She still didn’t get what the fuss was about.

“You saw the other side of the portals, right? The mountain range?” Jane asked.

“Yeah?”

“The tallest among them is Ymir’s Fang. Thor recognised it. That was how we figured out that the one place that several of the portals connect at once to is Jötunheim.”

 _The mountain range, the tallest mountain among the mountain range_ … Darcy’s mind jumped hoops and ran loops to find it as her chest tightened with a foreboding familiarity. She still couldn’t quite describe why it was so, so she didn’t say anything as she got lost in thought. Jane looked worried.

“You know Thor’s side of the story of what happened in Puente Antiguo, right?” the scientist asked.

“That there were some frost giants attacking, trying to get the Box of Winter to End All Winters?” Darcy asked, absentminded.

“The Casket of Ancient Winters,” Thor corrected. “They have only managed to breach Asgard’s defence because Loki had led them in.”

There was something her friends were awkwardly trying to step around instead of outright saying. Darcy could see it in the way Jane was fiddling with her cup of coffee, passing it from one hand to another. It was there in the cautious grip that Thor kept on his hammer and how they both tried to avoid staring at her for too long. With the understanding came a strange calmness over her.

“You think Loki did it again, didn’t you?” She asked.

“We have no true evidence that it is indeed what happened. We do know that the frost giants have made several successful portals.” Thor said. “The Man of Fury believes Loki to be responsible for their arrival in the country around the city of Denver. We, the Avengers remaining on guard in the Tower, will join them soon.”

Darcy nodded, trying to swallow everything at once. How quickly had everything changed in a day! She didn’t know whether she succeeded or not. There was the unease she felt for Tony and Bruce and everyone else. She watched her two friends and noted their discomfort.

“Huh, and you’re not trying to convince me that he’s actually evil and everything? That I should stop being his friend?” She asked, curious.

There was panic somewhere at the back of her mind, but her partly-awake mind wasn’t fully connected to all its parts yet and this time it was to her advantage as everything felt more muted to her. Something nagged about the mountain more than about this conversation. _What am I trying to remember, dammit? At the Mountains of Madness?_ Darcy thought irritably before giving an internal scoff.

Jane shook her head. “We’re still missing something. I mean, maybe it _was_ Loki. Maybe he decided to attack earth again…but why use frost giants when frost giants have failed against the might of Asgard before? Thor could go into details better, but I could see what he meant. What little we know right now is not enough to base conclusions on, much less make plans.”

The scientist sighed. “I’m just…worried for everyone, I guess.”

“He would use frost giants if it served his purpose, but not without other forces to back them up and ensure his victory better.” Thor continued for Jane, his voice grim. “Unlike then, I have heard nothing from the Allfather of the loss of the Casket, nor have have there any word of other forces from the Nine Realms to have been on the move. There is nothing about forces from further away either. I fear for our preparedness if there are indeed forces afoot that we are unaware of.”

He let out a long sigh. “For if that is indeed the case, victory may be within our grasp for this battle or the next, yet how prepared are we to face possible reinforcements that may came later on?”

Darcy noticed that Thor didn’t even try to defend his brother or say that he couldn’t believe his brother would do it. All she saw was resignation, _acceptance_ , and she had mixed feelings about it. It was good for him to be less stuck in the past, but she wasn’t sure how she felt that he’d sort-of written Loki off as a loss this time.

Or was she troubled because this time, _she_ was the one having an irrational attachment to Loki?

Thor took a steadying breath, unaware of the turmoil in Darcy’s mind. “ _But_ I have sworn my arms for the defence of Midgard. If the Man of Fury plans for us to move, then by the Norns, I will not let the warriors of this planet fight alone, even if I have my own uncertainty about the plan of attack.”

“Ah. Thank you for more fodder for my nightmares,” Darcy said dryly between sips of coffee. Jane gasped.

“Oh, I’m _sorry_ —”

“Nah, I’m just joking, Jane, really. Thanks for the update guys. Still, you haven’t reached the stage of warning me off him. I mean, I could _tell_ that Natasha was worried about me and what my friendship to Loki meant.”

Jane turned to Thor, who was also looking at his girlfriend with some unspeakable understanding. Jane turned her attention to Darcy.

“Do you remember what you told me when I asked you why you chose political science?” she asked.

The assistant had to mull over that as it had clearly been a while. “I think so?”

“You said ‘ _politics in general may suck, but it’s much, much better than war_ ’.”

“A most noble sentiment that does you credit, Lady Darcy,” Thor concurred solemnly. “You are clearly the stateswoman that Jane says you are.”

Darcy blushed and awkwardly tried to wave it away. Thor seemed so damned earnest that all her efforts to make a joke out of it simply deflated.

“Um, thanks. Jane made it sound so much better than what I actually said.”

Darcy could remember garbling to her boss-slash-friend some _ages_ ago. She was mostly trying to find something to salvage her pride after the nth CV she sent out _did not_ end up with a call for interview. She ended up pouring her heart out to Jane who just wanted to get a one-sentence answer. She had to scoff inwardly— _verbal vomit might be closer to everything I told Jane_.

“Well, I don’t know what you can see in Loki, but it’s your right to pursue your friendships, especially when no one came to any harm from it. You’re an adult.” Jane took a deep breath.

“I also know what you believed in Darcy. I choose…I choose to trust you. You taught me something about people and now I can say that I honestly believe that you’d make the right choice when it’s your turn to save the world. You’re not as shallow as most people think,” Jane finished. It was clear that it wasn’t something easy for her to say, but now that she’d said it, she actually looked relieved.

“We should not taint with our suspicions what came from genuine kindness. You mean well and so far you have been careful about it and have given us no cause to think otherwise.” Thor said. “It would be remiss of us to keep to ill humour out of habit.”

That scared the crap out of Darcy more than if Jane was going to go on and on about how befriending Loki was a bad idea. _Jane_ , genius astrophysicist _Dr. Jane Foster_ , trusted _her_ to not actually let everything go to hell in a hand basket if she had to choose between _the world_ and Loki. _Thor_ who had known his brother for, like, _centuries_ actually thought she had a _point_. Darcy didn’t even trust herself that much and desperately hoped she was never asked to choose between the weird trust she had in the wayward son and averting whatever flavour the apocalypse of the day took. Hell, considering the way her hormones acted up around him, she might even be distracted at the wrong moment!

“Really, it’s no biggie, guys.”

She cleared her throat, pretended that she didn’t feel like she had a bunch of marbles stuck there for some reason.

“I don’t know how you could believe that much in me, but thanks all the same. For good friends,” She raised her mug in a toast to them.

Jane had a tiny smile on her face while Darcy still hadn’t gotten over the deeply thoughtful and understanding look Thor was sporting. They raised their glasses in unison.

Darcy drank the warming brew down. She was an assistant, for God’s sake. Hardware jockey, code monkey and poli-sci graduate. And okay, she was also maybe an unexpected magic container for now, but it wasn’t as if she could do magic _herself_. She was as useless as a bottle of Red Bull on a battlefield, except she was Darcy-flavoured—and on that worrying note she wondered whether she had to start dodging shady sorcerers who probably wanted to take a sip from her or even finish her in one drink. She didn’t even know what it was that Jane thought she could _do_.

_Why does it seem like the universe keeps forgetting that?_

“You know what? Screw the coffee. I need something stronger.”

Jane eyed her with a shrewder eye than usual. “Oh no you don’t. When was the last time you ate, Darce? We’re going to go out eating first. I’m game if you want to drink after that.”

She groaned. Of all the times that Jane could’ve picked up the observation habits of normal people, this was not an ideal moment.

“Oh _fine_ , be a mother that way,” Darcy groused. Jane stood up primly and started looking around the room. Thor had stood up as well to help, because he was nice like that.

“Right. I’ll just bring over the menu stack I know you have somewhere around here and—”

“And you guys could tell me about the technician who thought he saw me going ghost?”

Jane paused, “how did you even know about that?”

“You said he saw me going through _walls_ , and I have to tell you,” Darcy smacked the table lightly a few times, just to make the point. “I _can’t_ go through solid objects, see? And I think I remember the guy. The first time he met me, he asked me if I was _dead_.”

Jane’s eyebrows shot up. “ _Rrriiiiight_.”

Darcy nodded. “Uh huh. Exactly what I thought the first time I heard it.”

Thor frowned. “We have not heard of your account before, Darcy.”

“Of course you haven’t. What am I supposed to say? ‘Dude, there’s this cuckoo technician that dropped in just now and thought I was dead’? I mean, how important was that compared to all the mini-crises everyone in this tower has to face every day? I didn’t give it much thought.”

The scientist sighed, a pile of menu printouts now firmly on her arm. “You’re right. It doesn’t sound like it meant anything.”

“Yes, _well_ , if he’d said he saw someone who looked like me floating through walls, I might’ve thought to tell people about it. I don’t wanna get charged when some doppelganger ghost of mine starts peeping on people bathing. I mean, if I was going to get arrested for peeping people, I _damn well_ should’ve seen some nice view myself for it.”

Jane blinked. She opened her mouth several times but no words came out in the first several tries. “Darcy?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think I really want to know what goes on in your head most of the time.”

Darcy grinned. “Aww, thanks Jane. Now you’re embarrassing me.”

“And I have no idea why you’re proud of that.” The astrophysicist said flatly. Her friend kept the wide smile and even added an evil overlord cackle into it on purpose. At the end of the night, once Jane and Thor returned to their own apartment and accidentally talked about it, they would agree that Darcy’s grin was disturbingly similar to Loki’s.

‘-

It really shouldn’t surprise anyone who knew her that Jane Foster was in her lab in the middle of the night after having dinner at her friend’s place. She rechecked her machines for the third time.

“Nothing out of the ordinary! I can’t believe it. Maybe if I try one more—”

“Jane,” Thor held her hands and gently guided her away. “Does the lights herald the arrival of a Bifrost?”

She sighed. “No, it doesn’t. Still, I _might_ be wrong, you know? There _is_ something weird about them, I’m sure of it.”

Fortunately, the Thor of today was certainly not Thor of last year, or two years ago. He knew better what he needed to ask. “What are the odds that you are wrong?”

Jane bit her lip. “Well, less than two percent?”

She squeaked in surprise when Thor picked her up easily in a bridal carry. “Can you forgive me for wishing to return home, dearest Jane?”

Thor’s pectorals was a solid warmth under her palm and Jane couldn’t help but let her hand wander. It was hard to concentrate when his complete focus was on her. His blue eyes were unwavering in following her features, enraptured with the smallest detail of her rumpled shirt. To him, her imperfections were the things that made her _real_ instead of being an impossible ideal—and even now Jane still had trouble believing that someone could think of her that way. She wondered if this was what it felt to be a star that ensnared another with its gravitational field, to have someone to exchange warmth and light with.

He carried her easily, and she knew he would wait for her answer forever.

“Um…” She wavered.

Thor smiled at that. It was so bright with hope and her resistance crumbled instantly with one faltering breath.

“Yes, let’s. Let’s go home, Thor.”

‘-

The evening ended with a surprisingly comforting dinner between the three friends. It seems that the only maxim Darcy could remember from von Clausewitz—that war is the continuation of politics by other means—had a strong kernel of truth. Thor could indeed comment on the state of the Nine Realms, though all of his observation has a martial bent (or was mostly threat-level assessment for Asgard), but hey, they actually have something in common that they can talk about. That was more than Darcy even expected, so it was a definite plus on her books.

So, she got a quick primer to the Nine Realms. She already knew Asgard and Earth, and there was the Evil Elfland (Svartalfheim, but seriously, Evil Elfland is easier to remember), Alfheim (The Other Elfland? Shinier Elfland?), Jötunheim (Here Be Frost Giants), Nidavellir (Dwarves Dwell Dere, sorry, There), Niflheim (Really Cold, Harsh and Creepy Place) and Muspelheim (Here Be Fire Giants).

Jane surprised her by being able to rattle off the size of the immediate standing forces of each Realm and gave them prompt comparison stats.

 _Though for your information, all of this isn’t as useful as it sounds because I haven’t even touched about the higher-end magic users. The Nine Realms hadn’t even_ standardised _the categories of magic and power, much less keep a detailed record about it the way they do for the warriors!_ _Jane complained, missing Darcy’s flabbergasted expression._

_Jane certainly suggested that such record-keeping needed to be done to Thor, who was looking at his lady love as if she was a genius of the first order._

_“Wow,_ Jane _, that was the most interest I’ve seen you show outside_ physics _!” Darcy commented._

 _“That’s not true! I borrowed Downton Abbey from you! And your Pride and Prejudice novel!” She defended, but there was a high colour on her cheeks and there was no way to mistake the pride in her eyes for having pulled a fast one over her friend. Darcy would’ve commented that it’s impossible to dislike P &P before she saw where Jane’s gaze had wandered. _Aha! You’re distracted by your Mr. Bingley! _Darcy crowed in her mind_.

_The smile on Thor’s face could light the whole room with his delight. He was even more handsome than usual with his warmth._

_“I am sure that Jane has can master anything she sets her mind to,” Thor praised. He only had eyes for her._

_“I’m just good with numbers,” Jane clarified._

_For half a minute, Darcy was sure that both of them had forgotten that Jane’s assistant was there on the table with them. She had to hold back from snickering._ Yeah, sure, _she thought,_ she’s set on understanding and impressing you, big guy _._

 _It was understandable considering that Jane had been a little insecure and felt that she’d never measure up to Sif—never mind that no one else was doing the measuring but Jane inside her own head_.

Darcy bid Thor and Jane good night after they’ve finished tidying up and was left to be alone once more in her apartment. There was one near-miss when Jane almost wandered into her bedroom looking for a book she wanted to borrow from Darcy—luckily, she knew exactly where every single one of her books are and told Jane to just stay put.

She really didn’t want to explain the apparent Asgard aesthetics of her bed, particularly the tastes of the God of Mischief and Lies (what could she say? She fell in love with the high thread count).

In the silence of her apartment, Darcy stared out at the occasional gusts of snow that she could see from her window, transfixed by the reddening night sky. The city was highlighted with ochre and old blood. _The aurora is back? Wanna bet that it’s still as weird as the previous one?_ A drunken person would’ve thought the sky was burning while Darcy wondered that maybe she and Jane _really_ needed to follow up Abe Mosby’s heebie-jeebies. She didn’t have a good feeling about this either.

The weight of Jane’s revelations hit her as her thoughts wandered.

The mountain range beyond the portal. The same mountain range she had warned Jane of for possible Mongol Orc Horde attack or something straight from Conan the Barbarian. Turns out that even her guesses had been too conservative—there were _frost giants_ there.

 _Ymir’s Fang_ , Jane had said. _Thor recognised it_.

She would bet that it was the same craggy mountain she had seen in the distance when she guided All-Blind to find Loki. _I need to find him_ , the visitor had said. He needed a guide because Loki wouldn’t survive for long in the wilds with his wounds. Her memories was bringing up more and more details about her dreams, so much that they came at her with all the power of a tidal wave. She just had to sit down and stare at the falling snow for a while without thinking as the images and scenes rush together at dizzying speed. (Snow, so much like the weather that she found Loki in). She managed to connect the details of her dreams completely now and the uncomfortable conclusion crystallised in Darcy’s fully awake mind.

_He was about to die in the wilds of Jötunheim and the dream mirrored that. All-Blind was looking for him…so it would seem that he’d expected Loki’s arrival and was concerned when he didn’t show up? How did I even find him when All-Blind couldn’t anyway?_

Wait, she was following the cause-and-effect all _wrong_.

She didn’t find Loki—he found her first.

He had suddenly dropped in at the _Two Queens_ , looking for all the world as if he belonged in that world instead of a mere visitor. She had no idea how he did it—maybe she should ask. (Then, there were her friends there. She didn’t wonder why Sarah was even there because, eh, if her imagination had made up Thor, Jane and even _Natasha_ , why not an old college friend too?)

Speaking of Sarah’s phantasm, she’d said that she’d noticed the movements of frost giants close to her corner of the Dreaming, searching for some portal or another. Did it have anything to do with Denver?

What was Loki up to in Jötunheim, again? She had asked him that question earlier, hadn’t she? Only that she’d forgotten that she’d asked it and had yet to receive an answer. She had been distracted about the whole issue of ‘how did I have magic?’ And then he had taken his time to sit her down and explain the whole mess. She was of two minds about it because clearly Loki had done her a favour when he didn’t have to.

_Why?_

She had no answer. Loki hadn’t given her any explanation about why the hell he was in Jötunheim… though she hadn’t asked about it either. That was probably the lame-ass excuse he was going to use if she confronted him about it.

_What the hell are you planning, Loki?_

She hoped to hell or high water that he wasn’t dabbling in another fricking world-conquering spree. The more pragmatic part of her, the one that was raised on Machiavelli and studied Watergate reminded her that whatever he actually did, the best thing she could do was prepare as if he did. It was especially true when the odds that he was behind this one were pretty significant. The last thing she wished was to be caught off-guard. It was better to have an umbrella in sunshine than be without one in the rain, and all that.

( _Does he have any regrets about it?_ Was one of the few questions she never dared to even think, pushing it far to the back of her mind the moment it might even exist. _Would he even apologise?_ )

Darcy covered her eyes with her hands when she felt tears beginning to fall and the smallest, quietest sobs found its way from her throat. _The stupidest thing about it_ , she thought, _is that I have no idea why I’m crying_. What was it for? For Loki’s apparent foolhardiness? For herself? For Thor and Tony and all the other Avengers that were now going to be stuck in Denver?

It was just… _everything_. Everything was too much.

Tomorrow, Darcy Lewis will wake up refreshed and would prepare herself for a possible war by collecting as much information as she could use. Tomorrow she would make plans, keep up with the news, strategise with Jarvis and maybe even contact Pepper once more. She might even, dare she say it, leave Jane’s lab earlier (and she knew her friend wouldn’t even mind about it).

But tonight she will do none of those things, because tonight was for regrets and lost might-have-beens.

‘-

As the SHIELD meeting dispersed, Natasha Romanova was among the last to leave the meeting room. She did this on purpose, because she was aware that not a few of the junior agents were intimidated by her presence and for all her unflappable persona she still had a smidgeon of pity for them. Maria Hill fell into step with her. Whether it was by accident or not, the redhead didn’t care to think about, as she knew Maria to be a dependable colleague. Even when she was still a green agent, she had a steady head on her shoulders.

“Congratulations, Acting Director,” Natasha said. “It is not hard to see that the choice is a foregone one as you _are_ his deputy all this time.”

Her tone implied that it was fair game to ask about the intelligence of whomever it was that had doubted the outcome. Nicholas Fury would lead the SHIELD operation in Denver and because of that he needed to choose his proxy to hold the fort in New York. That Maria was the person was obvious to Natasha.

“Thank you,” Maria nodded. “It did take me by surprise.”

“Really, Director?” Natasha raised an eyebrow.

“Maria,” she corrected. “You’ve known me since I was in basic.”

“And people need to get used to hearing your title. Apparently it would not penetrate the sluggish minds of some people otherwise,” Natasha replied smoothly. Maria successfully held back her snort, though her lips still twitched at the corners. They walked side-by-side to the elevator. It was a companiable silence, but something was weighing on the Deputy Director’s mind and after a while she voiced her thoughts.

“I have to ask, Natasha. Why me?”

Natasha frowned. “Why not?”

“If we’re talking about seniority, then you should be the one to take it.”

Natasha did snort then, shaking her head. “I’m the most senior by default, other than the Captain. It does not tell you anything important. Besides, I’m more of a field agent. You should know that.”

“Your expertise and experience would be invaluable as director,” came the quick answer.

“Then you know just as well that I will give my advice anytime you ask. Possibly several other times when it is not asked as well.” She answered dryly. Maria’s brows furrowed.

“But—”

She stopped and placed a hand on the other agent’s arm. The hallway was quite empty except for the two of them. “ _Maria_ , I will tell you this because you’re a friend. Nick had offered me to be his deputy once before. I refused. I told him why. He understands my reasons, he respects it and he hasn’t offered me again. Trust me, you’re the Director SHIELD needs in New York right now, not me.”

The younger agent was clearly still troubled about it.

“I don’t understand why not.”

Natasha closed her eyes. She didn’t pinch her nose, nor did she rub her hands together or betray any other idiosyncratic gestures of nervousness. They had all been trained out of her a long time ago and she had always religiously shed any she had lightly acquired on purpose for any disguise just as she shed her other costumes and skin. A spy should aim to be colourless and faceless, as forgettable as necessary. This was a habit sunk into the marrow of her bones.

“Because you have the people in mind, the opinion of Ward and similar young idiots notwithstanding. As for me, I’ve been doing deep cover assignments for too long.” Natasha finished.

Maria sighed. “You could spot several secrets at once a few minutes into a meeting.”

“ _If_ I had a good handler who could actually provide proper dossiers.”

“Still, why wouldn’t you—”

“Because you think of the people in SHIELD. It’s not merely about the top agents, but also the junior ones as well as the people behind the scenes. You do care.” Natasha answered.

“When a person plays the Tournament of Shadows, every play meant sacrificing something. Always. The best players make sure you gain more than you lose most of the time. Let an agent play for too long and become too good at it, you will have an excellent asset.” She said all this with a clinical detachment since she had seen it all before, paid her own price in blood. Yet to most people who didn’t know her, her voice was colder than arctic. “I will not, however, recommend that person for any significant positions of power. The skills are…very _particular_ to the line of work. To practise them too often when one is in command…”

“There are only so many sacrifices an organisation can make before it loses its soul, no matter the gain.”

‘-

Loki stirred from his sleep with an arm automatically reaching out to his side only to find it empty. Underneath the furs his half-sleeping mind insisted that he wake up and find a presence that _obviously_ should be there and that it was _not_ going to accept the disappointment until he corrected it. He sat up with a curse as he found himself very much alone. He leaned back against his travelling chest.

The embers of the hearth keeping but little light in the cave, yet it did not matter for one with sufficient night vision such as him. There was a storm outside and even Helblindi seemed to be fast asleep on a different side of the cave. He supposed they would move once the snowstorm was over—and war will begin.

He could still taste Darcy.

He could still feel her curves whether they were under him or over him, pressed closely enough to blur themselves within each other. Her insatiable lips had drunk from him so endlessly that he was almost certain he was still intoxicated with her. _You’ve hurt me_ , she had laid herself bare and also accused him in one sentence. Yet she admitted again that she still trusted him, would still willingly give herself to him and held him as if she would prefer nowhere else to be.

 _Why?_ He ran a restless hand through his hair and cast his gaze around, trying to find some ways to distract himself before the enigma that was Darcy Lewis trapped him in her golden web again. Every time he thought he had taken her measure, she would find a way to surprise him, to slip outside his expectations as easily as a mongoose avoided a cobra.

On that random note, he wondered how she came up with the idea to involve _goblins_ , out of all things, part of the lesser wights, in her establishment. He himself knew that the little critters are resilient and had a surprising degree of cunning for one of their intellect, but most people would’ve been intimidated by their chaos and unruly behaviour to look deeper. That she could take a leap of faith on them had amazed him.

The binding he had placed over her dream memories would have been undone by now as he had finished his explanation on the origin of her magic. After this…

He was resolutely not thinking about what happens after this. Perhaps she will find him again, perhaps she will not. _What does it matter?_ He had made his plans for some time now and had weaved all the significant realms through it as well if he could manage it. She had a sharp mind—he had no serious concerns on her ability to survive and he could put her out of his mind most of the time. _This_ was the third act of the play, the culmination he was waiting for and there was no reason for him to discard it now with success so near.

If Darcy finally found a reason to fault him, it wasn’t as if it was entirely unexpected either. He had foreseen it, hadn’t he? The same way he had foreseen dozens upon dozens of maidens turning away from him once they saw Thor. Would it be unexpected if she chose to abandon him now? No, not at all.

There was a particular inevitability to it akin to the weave of souls and fates in the Tapestry, or every turn of the galaxy.

Even if he could not promise to himself to never visit the little corner of In-Between she had unwittingly carved for herself.

 ‘-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes ambition and career just interferes with your social life. It’s been known to happen.
> 
> I recommend listening to _My Chemical Romance_ ’s ‘The Light Behind Your Eyes’ and _Nightwish_ ’s ‘The Crow, the Owl and the Dove’ while rereading the scenes of this arc if you don’t think your heart’s being crushed enough. I also worked on it with _Apocalyptica_ (ft. Lacey)’s ‘Broken Pieces’ (Darcy’s side) and _Apocalyptica_ (ft. Matthias Sayer)’s ‘Hope’ (Loki’s side).  
>   
> 
> Author note on trust and friendship (mini rant ahead), not really necessary to read:
> 
> Reading too many stories with either Jane or Thor (or both) doesn’t trust Darcy just because she’s close to Loki annoys the heck out of me more than I expected, especially when I feel their reasons are weirdly immature instead of something solidly grounded in reality. The personal and professional doesn’t have to mix if you don’t want it to.
> 
> I don’t know whether I’ve read too much manga (with its concept of _nakama_ ) or if I was too used to the whole band-of-brothers feel people get in the forces or other organisations with a distinct organisational culture (Google, anyone?), but I want more examples of easy camaraderie between Darcy and the people she works with. After all, the Avengers are going to fall apart really fast without trust, including the support staffs like Jane and Darcy, and this is my take on it.
> 
> Jane and Thor trusts her because she doesn’t let them down, and in return she feels comfortable trusting them.
> 
> ‘-


	27. XXVII. The Continuation of Politics...Part 2 (The Other Bridge Project)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Thor and Jane chat about dreamwalking at breakfast. Jane pulls a surprise visit on a project (Tony is thrown off-balance). Tony trolls Jane. Darcy holds her ground. An understanding is reached at the lab._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mostly Jane and the Sciencing.

### XVII. The Continuation of Politics… Part 2 (The Other Bridge Project)

Come morning and Jane was putting poptarts into her toaster while Thor faced down the coffee machine with determination; this was his fourth try in brewing and the results of the previous efforts were less than perfect. He’s not giving up yet and Jane _could_ taste the improvements through the batches so she’d cheered him on. There was serenity in their daily routine and it brought a contented smile on her face.

“Thor?”

“Yes, Jane?”

“I don’t think we ended up asking Darcy about her dreams at all, did we?” She wondered.

Thor had just finished measuring water and beans. “The thought escapes me—I suppose not. Yet there is nothing ominous about it, is there?”

The scientist tapped her short nails against the countertop in thought.

“Well, I remember spending a long time talking of design with blueprints spread _everywhere_ with Tesla and then there was the part with both of us. I understand what you mean, though. I can’t imagine where the danger is.” She never thought that it was possible for a home to need _two_ large toasters in their apartment, but considering the number of calories that Thor needed to burn every day, he would have to wait too long for toast otherwise. It was now a standard in both of their apartments.

“Dreamsharing is not very rare among brothers-at-arms, especially if the day’s fight or activity had involved magic. Many spells create backwash and they have interesting effects.” Thor said.

“Tony was worried about Loki manipulating people through it.”

Thor chuckled but shook his head.

“I am certain he is unable to. Dreamwalking is very much within his ability, perhaps even to influence other people’s dreams somewhat, but I doubt Loki can create whole living places within the Dreaming itself to draw many of us into it. He is better at direct manipulation.” Thor explained while he carefully set the roast setting. Jane was optimistic that this one was going to be perfect.

“There are _specialisations_ in _magic_?” Jane asked, intrigued. Thor nodded absently.

“Of course. Even stargazers do not all look at the same stars, do they? Nor all warriors used to the same arms?” It was surprisingly perceptive of him. Jane had to force herself to consider whether she’d unwittingly underestimated Thor like many of the more intelligent people that had met him. She eased the guilt down slowly and promised herself she’d listen better to him.

“So people generally can’t do that, then?” She asked again.

Thor paused, thinking. “It is witches and female magic wielders who weave dreams.”

It was hard to keep herself calm, but Jane managed. “You mean there are things boys and girls can’t learn because it’s for the other _gender_?”

Thor shook his head. “That is not true, but it would be very difficult to find a teacher that is able to teach you, if you are not what most teachers expect from a student. Many people will think long and hard about their choices when faced with such inconveniences.”

 _Uh, Thor, I think_ that’s _still a glass ceiling of sorts_ , Jane thought, but then the explanation could take a whole evening and she didn’t have time for that. Thor meant well—he certainly never thought it was wrong for Sif to want to study the arts of war than more stereotypically feminine pursuits, even if it was unusual by Asgardian standards.

“So even if Loki is interested, there would be no one to teach him.”

The Asgardian didn’t answer. When Jane turned to check up on him, she saw that he was deep in thought. Jane started to stack some of the toasted poptarts on a plate and pushed it in his direction. He took it gratefully with many thanks. She smiled as she watched him eat with relish. Thor had scarcely complained about any meal she’d placed in front of him. It was a great ego boost for Jane who’d always thought that she failed at being domestic.

“I have heard of one lord who is a dreamweaver,” he finally stated after he finished one poptart.

“And?”

He shook his head. “It is of no consequence, Jane. He is of the rare land-bound, and his kingdom is not among the larger ones. He does not much care for complications in courts outside his own—his interests are with his land and his travels rarely take him outside of his own realm. I remember now that it is indeed his dominion that had granted him the ability to weave dreams, but he has honed his skills to augment it to a degree no one expects a king to.”

Jane thought she could see a pattern there. When she spoke again, she did it slowly.

“Would it be far more expected from a queen?”

Thor nodded, his blue eyes earnest as he explained. “Certainly. But then, he has always been one of the odder kings as well as one of the strongest magicians. For all the whispers, none would say their doubts to his face, even if land-binding is considered more as a relic of past times. Times when magic was less ordered, wilder.”

That created more questions than answers inside of her, but they were less relevant to their topic than another more pressing question she had no idea about.

“Excuse me, but what exactly is land-bound?”

Thor stared at her uncertainly. “It is those that are bound to their lands?”

Jane closed the fridge and poured herself some orange juice. She gave him a tired look.

“You know, that _doesn’t_ actually clarify anything.”

“But that is indeed how it has always worked,” Thor explained with helpless gestures of his hands. “A noble just and true swore his allegiance first and foremost to the land and to always serve it first above all else. In exchange, the land lends its strength and assistance to its ruler, to share the ruler’s life and pain and help bear the burdens of command. It is also possible for knights to be land-sworn, but their position and responsibilities would not be exactly the same.”

Jane sighed. She was pretty sure it had some interesting cultural details someone else might be interested in, but what she wanted to know was what made the magicians that are land-bound different from more normal magicians—seriously, _dreamweaving?_ What the hell was _that_? It was times like these that she wished Dr. Strange would just join the Avengers. It would make dealing with everything related to the magic bullcrap easier (including possibly translating some of the arcane theories into a couple workable physics models—Jane started out as a theoretical physicist and a part of her still couldn’t let go of trying to find the most elegant theory to illustrate the universe).

Heck at this rate, she’d be happy enough to have an imprisoned _Loki_ to work with.

Though that wouldn’t have been necessary if said wayward prince wasn’t causing them all this trouble now. Jane thought she could feel an impending headache forming.

“So…” she said after a while. “Seems like we don’t have much for now.”

Jane bustled through the kitchen for a little more while until she noticed how Thor had grown unusually quiet.

“Loki was peerless in his studies because he learned from mother. She is…she was, had been, one of the best practitioners in Asgard.” With each drawn out word, Jane knew just how fresh his sorrow was. She sighed and put further questions on how opportunities didn’t seem to be quite symmetrical for either gender in Asgard aside for now and placed her hand over his in support.

“I’m sorry,” Jane said.

The Asgardian shook his head. “There is nothing to forgive, my love. If anyone should apologise, it would be me. If mother were here she would know where we may start our hunt. We will know with haste where the most promising places to find further tracks would be.”

“But as you only have me who have never thought much of magic until it is too late…” Self-recrimination shot through his voice.

Jane hugged him and his arms clasped around her without thought. They leaned into the embrace, taking strength from each other.

“Don’t say that, Thor. We’re further than we were before. You still have some familiarity with magic; _I_ wouldn’t know where to start if I was trying to figure this out alone.”

The slow growth of a warm smile was what she received for her words and her expression softened in return.

“You will spend your day in your lab, then?” Thor asked.

Jane paused. “Well, in a lab, yes, but not exactly my usual lab…”

She debated on whether she should tell Thor or not about what she’d been working on with Tony. But then, if she couldn’t trust Thor, who could she trust? She really wasn’t all that suited to cloak-and-dagger stuffs. For all of Darcy’s general lack of embarrassment or concern about censoring out the TMI parts in her life, she was much better at this than Jane was.

 _Oh stuff it_ , she thought. _I’m here for the_ SCIENCE _, not the politics_. Most of the time she left that for other people to sort out. Like Darcy, Tony or Pepper. To be honest, she was relieved that she didn’t need to handle it herself.

 _But it’s not as if we don’t need help either in the lab…_ Jane glanced up. An idea had crossed her mind.

Thor was patiently waiting for her to come up with an answer and chose to continue demolishing his breakfast in the meantime.

“Thor, would you like to come to our not-so-public lab? Tony and I had been working on something…”

‘-

To anyone with interest in interplanetary travel and enough clearance to know that there had been _actual_ working examples of Einstein-Rosen Bridge, the 89 th floor of Stark Tower stood out like a beacon. The labs of some of earth’s greatest minds in physics and engineering were there, after all – the chief giants among them would be Tony Stark, Jane Foster, and Bruce Banner. Many valuable prototypes are created and tested here and access is secured through appropriate clearance by Stark Industries.

The same interested people would also be aware of experimental machinery currently constructed in the highest floor of Stark/Avengers Tower. Simply put, it tries to mimic the Asgardian method of warping the fabric of space-time, especially with its ability to traverse worlds in a single step. This masterpiece is the result of a top secret government project co-managed by SHIELD and DARPA in partnership with Stark Industries.

These two floors would generally take up most people’s attention.

This would make them miss the third floor involved. It would not be their fault, for it is not labelled as such.

The 42nd to the 45th floor are assigned as hangars. These floors are not the most optimal hangars as space is a premium in New York city, even when one is Tony Stark, but quite convenient to keep a few choice crafts in all the same. Just in case (and what a long-shot case that was, but heck, why not? Tony Stark had the money and he was known to get bored enough to try outlandish ideas from time to time). Half of the space is (grudgingly) accorded to SHIELD while the other half still belongs to Stark Industries (generally, that meant Tony Stark).

One of these hangars is not a hangar.

This is where Jane Foster was leading her paramour, Thor, on this fine morning.

She had passed through the largest (and last) electronic double doors that asked for her ID after swiping her card. The ceiling rose up before her in a space that was rightfully designed to store a helicopter or two. It was unexpectedly emptier today than usual, where the staff would be working on the machinery connected and powering the great metallic arcs in the middle of the room, rising from the left and right like gigantic claws that meet cautiously in the middle. As a whole, they were much closer to the ‘hangar doors’ that opened into the air than the entrance.

“As like the belly of the beast,” Thor murmured as he gazed up.

“What?” Jane turned, before following his gaze. “Ah, I see what you mean. They look like ribs from here, don’t they?”

Now _that_ reminded her a little of the bones in elephant graveyards too, but she really didn’t want to think about anything too morbid right now. She was already skittish from all the required secrecy. Not that she disagreed with Tony on that front at all, it was certainly…inconvenient to live with. Paranoia was going to make her lose what little sleep she still has and it left her frazzled on the best of days.

“Shit, what was that rune supposed to _really_ look like?”

Said inventor was complaining at his work as he knelt in front of one of the floor panels, his back to them. A scroll was laid open not far from his left hand, incongruous in its analogue, old-world glory. It was even odder to see that it elaborated a detailed drafting of some machinery parts. Its presence actually explained the lack of staff—they were usually away when the more top-secret parts of the task had to be done. Especially when it came to the parts that involved _magic_.

Jane was surprised that Dr. Robin wasn’t there – she was the one Tony usually handed off all the ancient scrolls to, to decipher.

“Anything I can help with?” Jane asked. Tony was still cursing up a storm as he bent over his work.

“Well, I hope you can read Strange’s shorthand and his tacked on diagrams better. It would’ve been a lot _easier_ if he’d just let us meet all of his mysterious contacts that happened to tinker with things we’re interested in than to let him transcribe them. Hell, he wouldn’t expect me to write down a surgery manual from some alien civilisation perfectly for him, why would he think this is _fine?_ ” Tony complained.

Jane noticed a smaller paper next to the scroll, a hurried translation into English. It would seem that Robin had gone through this scroll after all. She didn’t seem to do much for the diagrams, which was what Tony was trying to puzzle through.

“Probably because he’s not sure whether he can bring other people in his, err, extraplanar travels?” Jane guessed. “We’re not all magicians like him?”

Tony sighed as he dropped whatever tools he had on hand and stood up, brushing his hands on the knees of his overalls while Jane was critically assessing the fact that his t-shirt was at least a size too small and had more tears than she cared for. When he turned around, his eyes widened as he caught sight of Thor.

“Ah, didn’t know you’d be inviting Prince Charming for dinner. Damn. I thought I was _special_ , Girl Genius?”

Said alien prince himself had wandered away for a bit as he began to notice the runes etched on the floor panels, curiously reading them.

Jane rolled her eyes. “You were complaining about runes, right? Thor might not know the full art of writing them, but he can certainly read it.”

“We already have Robin for that.”

“But even _she’s_ not specialised in Asgardian runes,” Jane replied. “It would save a lot of time while she looks up on the other languages, right?” She didn’t miss the way Robin’s usually neat handwriting had trailed more than once in the translation page next to the scroll. She was certainly overworked.

“You want Rain Man between you and me? Damn, and I thought I had you _all_ to myself today. A date _usually_ requires renegotiation before you turn them into a ménage à trois, Foster. You know, to recalibrate expectations on the number of people involved in the physical _experiments_.” Tony said this with a disappointed look and childish pout. Jane spluttered as her cheeks went up by a shade or two.

“It’s a working relationship! Anyway, we’ve worked with Strange and Bruce on board for a while, haven’t we?”

“But _Dear Stephen_ always brought us the most exotic papers to put into practise! It would be bad form to do so just the two of us without inviting him when he did all the searching. We can’t help but keep a revolving door for him into our lives, don’t we?” Tony said this cheerfully while stretching his back, the thin t-shirt he had on not hiding the dense muscles of his back that rippled as he did this.

Jane swore he did it on purpose.

She rubbed her face with her hand, conveniently hiding her blush. “I swear sometimes that you and Darcy have a competition about this.” She retorted.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I was talking about all those treatises on magic-science interface. You did read that interesting work on portal crafting, right?” Tony replied. The look on his face was too innocent to be believed as he continued on.

“Who would’ve known that it worked? Or that it worked with the assumptions that we’re in a De Sitter universe baked into it? If we know we could do _that_ with magic as opposed to trying to model the universe a lot more accurately, that would simplify a lot of the calculations we need to make.”

Jane hadn’t had the chance to tell him what she thought about using De Sitter universe assumptions before Tony hopped easily towards Thor.

“So, Rain Man, what brings you here?”

Thor left the line he had begun reading on the floor as he heard his teammate and answered Tony with a small smile. “Jane.”

Tony blinked. “Alright, gotta appreciate a guy who knows what he’s after.”

“You will be able to summon forth a Bifrost with this,” the Asgardian added, “and the Man of Fury does not know.”

Thor’s blue gaze held no condemnation, but there was no way to mistake the knowing in it. An annoyed grunt rose up from the back of Tony’s throat as he sidled back to Jane.

“But I _really_ don’t like getting blackmailed. _Foster!_ I thought this was our secret _thing_ , not a free-for-all. We already _had_ a good _ménage à trois_ going with Banner here. We even have a _ménage à quatre_ if we’re counting Robin. I should’ve known you’re insatiable enough to force me to consider a new partner—you’re angling for _ménage à cinq_ , then _?_ Damn, I’ll have to think of the logistics, though, make sure no one’s limbs are getting in the way of someone else’s…”

The paper on the floor failed to hold Jane’s attention as Tony rambled on. The colour hadn’t completely vanished from her cheeks either while Jane was only too glad that some translation details of what Tony was implying seemed to have escaped Thor.

“Tony!”

“Figuratively speaking.” He finished. Jane’s disbelieving look rolled off him like water off a duck’s back.

“Scheduling time for people with five separate careers isn’t easy. How do you even make sure you have enough time for each other that way? Actual relationships fall apart easily without enough time, sometimes even _with_ time. We can’t all be perfect like Anita Blake, can we?”

She sighed. “I don’t even know who you’re talking about and I have the feeling that I don’t want to know.” Tony’ grin was as wide and damning as the Cheshire cat.

“Why are you concerned about my involvement?” Thor asked, puzzlement marring his features. Tony turned to face him fully and this time there was no trace of a joke in his voice.

“Of _course_ , I’m concerned about you. You just said that you know Fury doesn’t know about this.”

“It is not a place we visited when we are given a tour of Midgard’s Bifrost project.” Thor answered simply. “It is decidedly odd if they choose to conceal the smaller, less complete Bifrost and yet show the larger one. Thus I conclude that SHIELD is unaware of it.”

“He’s not blackmailing you.” Jane insisted, stepping up right beside the Asgardian.

Tony rolled his eyes.

“Of course he’s not. He’s a straightforward guy, vanilla instead of kinky. _I_ think he’d be open to new experiences if _you’re_ the one who’d accompany him all the way through—” he shrugged at Jane’s pointed look to get on with it and skip the innuendo.

“Seriously how many kinks are there in the way he thinks?”

“Thor isn’t simple.” Jane said reflexively.

“I didn’t say you are, Rain Man,” Tony said this to Thor. “It’s just his _preference_ to be a straight shooter.”

Before Jane needed to answer, the industrialist had turned to her again, this time a more serious look on his face.

“Yet my point stands; you’ve got to explain _this_ , Foster. You and Banner are the only physicist cleared for this, and of course there’s Strange. Robin can slide through the loopholes because _technically_ , she’s not constructing any machinery or reading any blueprints, only translating Strange’s own collection of scrolls. Still, we don’t need all the bullshit national security lockdown to be brought down on _us_.”

He snorted in annoyance. “Any esoteric scientific project on interspace and interdimensional travel invites those these days. You can’t even _breathe wrong_ without first signing a form that says you want to do that, much less bring all the questionable and interesting characters to consult on this.”

Tony paused for a moment and took a step towards the other superhero.

“But y _ou_ , Rain Man, can bring unwanted attention on us all too easily.”

“I will not,” Thor replied with a solemn nod and a hand over his heart, the gravity of his statement surprising both Jane and Tony. “Though I do not understand why the necessity takes you, or why the Man of Fury would be disapproving if it is for the safety of your planet. The Midgardian Bifrost project is larger than this, is it not? Why make another one? What should it matter that you do?”

“But we’re not trying to make one here,” Jane said, ignoring the stink eye that Tony gave her.

“ _Foster_ —”

“Like you said, we’re trying to call forward.” She pressed on, “The idea is to establish contact with Asgard, enough for them to locate us and _build most of the connection from their side_.”

“But would it not mean that one cannot even call it a proper Bifrost? Why so much concern over a lesser project?” Things certainly hadn’t cleared up that much for Thor.

“You swear you’re not snitching?” Tony cut in, stepping far closer to the god of thunder. Thor did not take offence at the question or the tone.

“I cannot understand the secrecy but I will abide by it. On my honour.”

Tony sighed. “I suppose that would be good enough from you. To start with, this is mostly a backup; another way to contact Asgard because it gives me the creeps to know that the other one is under watch 24/7. I don’t like any and all access to it can be cut off immediately without explanations either in the name of national security. It’s the equivalent of them having the ability to suddenly freeze all international airports with a command.”

He scratched his head while the other continued to move animatedly while he stepped away.

“It’s all about control, Rain Man. The government’s obsessed about control and access.”

“While I’m sure you remember me insisting science doesn’t thrive without the exchange of ideas. This project was built relying on exactly that,” Jane helpfully added for Thor. The Asgardian nodded slowly in comprehension while Tony barrelled on.

“ _Exactly_. I’m calling this ‘Rainbow Bridge Lite’, and you know what? There are already several dozen features we’re trying out here that the bigger, more official project doesn’t have. Why is that, you ask? Well, because we get these ideas after asking _some people_. These are people that the government might not have a good opinion of, people they kinda restrict from working on the official version in the first place.”

“They do have a good reason to get people security clearances first for these projects.” Jane added, always the voice of reason.

“For a lot of people, yeah. They want to try out dangerous experiments without regard to other people. Sometimes those experiments are designed to kill people on purpose,” Tony paused. Some of the expressions passing his features were not too pleasant, and for a moment Jane thought of Ivan Vanko.

“But then there are those people that’re barred for political reasons—reasons that I don’t always agree with.”

“Exiles,” Thor answered softly, and Tony nodded at that.

“Do you get it now?” Tony asked.

The two scientists were now waiting on the Asgardian mulling over these explanations in his mind.

Thor frowned. “If there are people wrongfully accused or exiled from creating things they can rightfully contribute to, then why should we not correct that? If an injustice exists to ostracise people from their field, it is Not _Right_.”

He said this firmly, and the weight of the words easily carried the weight of his will too. The gravity of his honour and ideal anchored his certainty. It did not matter whether he was powerful or weakened to human level; he will not stop caring about it all the same. It was as if he could not believe that there are any other actions to do—that _of course_ one tries to correct a miscarriage of justice when one sees it.

Was there anything better to be done otherwise?

He carried his conviction in the line of his broad shoulders, his golden hair gleaming. No matter how mundane his creased jeans and shirt were, no one could doubt that they were in the presence of a prince, noble and capable of being great.

It was hard for Jane not to smile when she saw him like this. When the old Thor broke out to the surface of the proud prince that took everything for granted and expected that everything was his due. That entitled man-child had been an ass and the less he came up these days, the better.

Tony groaned. “I forgot that I already have a good reason to not have you on the project—you keep doing _this_. Chill out, we’ve got this on hand.”

“You are correcting this as we speak?” Thor asked.

He leaned back, his hands in the pockets of his overalls and a faint tang of oxidised copper around him and he met Thor’s gaze evenly. “Look, neither of us are lawyers, okay? Let the legal guys give their best shot at it. It’s going to take a while—snail’s pace for me, but eh, that’s the law for you. Besides, we’ve got the portals-from-Jötunheim to deal with.”

“Yet still you are working on another Bifrost,” Thor said, though the crease between his eyebrows had abated slightly.

“Instead of what, going giant hunting? Well the thing is, we don’t know from which of ‘em anyone is going to come in from. Secondly, you _did_ say that Asgard and Earth have that mutual defence thing going on now.”

He nodded. “Yes, I have pledged to provide recourse to Midgard in times of trouble.”

“And how on earth are we going to do that if we can’t even _tell_ you when we’re in trouble? Ring the bell on your front doors and ask for assistance, eh?” Tony said all this while backing away, arms spread out wide to call into attention the breadth of the great metal arcs.

Thor’s expression cleared as realisation dawned.

Tony grinned. “Yeah, thought so. That was the idea, big guy. _Your_ Bifrost is broken and isn’t exactly in tip-top shape either, right? The military thinks a full rainbow bridge is just the thing, because _hello_ freedom to explore outer space and all that. They also happen to be right—in the long run, we’d want our own bridge. But just how long would it take until that happens? But _this_ , this little Rainbow Bridge Lite of ours is a different story.”

“I keep saying you should call it something else,” Jane said, with more resignation than as actual complaint, “ _Rainbow Bridge Lite_ sounds like craft beer.”

“That’s actually a good thing. I love craft beer.” Tony smacked his lips for emphasis.

“Basically, half a tunnel that relies on the other side to connect and support would be faster to make than if we were to try constructing our own take of the Asgardian’s version of an Einstein-Rosen bridge.” Jane explained, taking Tony in a stride and ignoring his disappointed look that she didn’t take the bait. “Since it’s certainly less powerful than the actual government-backed version, we’re not going against the rules either by keeping this a company secret.”

“One always charts several paths of escape when wilfully entering danger than rely on just one.” This time, Thor’s expression was sharper with a new awareness.

Tony grinned. “ _Now_ you’re getting it.”

“Not to mention that you are uncomfortable with having your escape-ship held in the hands of a party you do not fully trust.” The alien prince continued with more sharpness than his present company expected.

“Yep. Backups are always a great idea. Love backup plans.”

“Not as much as you love craft beer?” Jane asked wryly.

“Nah, _more_. After all, you can’t have craft beer if you haven’t made a successful escape from your current danger.” Tony insisted.

“Then I will gladly provide you with my assistance,” Thor said. The other Avenger extended his hand out with glee. Thor took it with a firm hold of his own, never mind that Tony had weird stains all over him and Jane had been sure she smelled more than one burnt element around him.

“Welcome aboard! Now, I keep telling Strange that he should go digital but did he listen to me? _Noooo_. _So_ , he always sends us this pile of old scrolls and we’d have to work with that. There’s one that’s been puzzling our resident ancient language expert, though, and I wonder if you have a better idea about…”

Jane was already on the said pile of scrolls when Tony was still shaking hands with Thor. Now, she eased a box of them on the ground, and the three of them set to work for the morning.

‘-

Jane wasn’t in the lab at all today. She was off doing some collaborative work with other scientists of Stark Industries. Usually, Darcy accompanied her to wherever she was going. This time it was a relatively hush-hush project—so Darcy was mostly involved in the paperwork but had never personally set foot in the highly restricted lab where it took place at. Not that she minded that at all, she was actually glad for it.

The times when Jane was out _without_ pulling Darcy along with her generally meant a laid-back day she could use to catch up on her reading or even some series backlog. Darcy was strolling back from an early lunch and humming a song under her breath. There was a box filled with slices of apple pie and peach cobbler on one hand. It was that new patisserie she’d wanted to check out since several weeks ago but hasn’t managed until now.

She hadn’t intended on taking the cobbler; she had only intended on getting one dessert for herself. It was something her hands did without thinking—probably because she had dreamt of Sarah recently and the college flashbacks became a bit strong. She used to pick it up from the corner bakery for her roommate back then.

Not that she was going to complain about getting two pieces of desserts today. _Yum_.

If Jane was in high gear in the lab, Darcy would never have thought of going out anywhere too far—she could be assisting Jane with her work if she’s not there, right? Not to mention that she couldn’t stop thinking about what Jane was up to when she’s not around too. But now, she could indulge a bit.

She swiped her access card at the reader next to the door, casually waiting for the door to open.

Darcy paused at the doorway, eyes widening in surprise. The room wasn’t empty.

“Miss Lewis, you’re finally back! We’ve been waiting for you for a while.”

A smiling young woman in a black suit wandered towards her from the whiteboards, her expression was unexpectedly open for someone she suspected was an agent. She had been staring at Jane and Loki’s scribbling before. Darcy’s mouth ran away from her before she could even make up her mind.

“The lab was _locked_.”

“Well not _really_. It just had restricted access. Fortunately, me and my partner are cleared for it. We thought we’d be able to see you before lunch, but I suppose this would do just as well. We won’t take long, I assure you.”

She introduced herself, her name vaguely familiar to Darcy for some reason she couldn’t place. Darcy had only noticed her partner then, and compared to her, he looked like a real pain in the ass.

“Seriously, people, this isn’t a public place. It’s restricted access for a reason.” Darcy complained.

“We were just waiting for you,” the fresh-faced agent replied, hands raised in front of her to show that she meant no harm. “I did read the stuff on the whiteboard, but I don’t think I understood all of it.”

“Of course not, that was Jane and Loki’s work.” Darcy replied. “They could get really crazy with the higher maths once they started.”

At the mention of Loki’s name, the other agent stopped shuffling through whatever reports he had been checking through and stared straight at her. He covered the length of the lab quickly with his ground-eating strides and stopped a little too close to her. Darcy stepped back because she was annoyed at having to look up at him.

“You allowed Loki to work here?”

She shrugged. “He might as well be useful while he’s here, isn’t it?”

“How do we know that nothing has been compromised?”

Darcy glared at him. “Because all the data is in the damned reports handed in and anyone could check them! Sheesh, did you guys actually read _anything_ we sent before you barge in?” Even his brooding handsome looks did not lessen her annoyance at his pestering.

“It could’ve been manipulated,” he pointed out.

“The data is in the _frickin’_ database and you can double check them yourself!” Darcy scoffed and threw her hands in the air. “I can’t believe you guys went on a fishing expedition on Jane. This is ridiculous. You know what? I’m _done_ answering your questions. You can see yourself out now or I’m calling the security.”

“Sorry, we really just want to know about a few things,” the friendly young woman finally pulled herself together to place a hand over her partner’s arm. Judging by the way she’d let him take control of the conversation, Darcy would guess that he was the senior agent. She was apologetic.

“It wouldn’t take much time. We just want to make sure.”

As nice as the female agent was, Darcy’s gut feeling gave her the impression that someone was trying to play good cop, bad cop with her. The realisation chilled her as goose bumps rose at the back of her arm, and long-dormant street instincts kicked in. Or hell, maybe just the gut feeling of the occasional protester. It was always important to keep a demonstration civilised and in-check, and she had gotten good at spotting a troublemaker, or feel the mood of the crowd when it began to change into something more dangerous.

Her voice was still easy when she spoke up again, betraying none of the worries she was starting to have.

 _They don’t have anything on you. They can’t force you to tell them anything, not without a good reason_.

“There is nothing here that isn’t already on a report to SI or SHIELD somewhere. Because that’s what you do when you’re doing scientific research—you note everything down and make sure other people can try to replicate your experiment,” Darcy stated, using all her focus to keep her voice nice and steady. “That’s why I have to ask you to leave.”

“But Darcy,” the woman started. Darcy shook her head.

“But nothing. You’re poking around without a clear idea of what you’re looking for. Your partner already has his own suspicions. The last thing I’ll do is to give ground against a witch hunt.”

The woman shook her head insistently. “It’s not a witch hunt.”

“To stubbornly refuse cooperation would not look well on you, Miss Lewis.” The apparently more senior agent said. His voice was calm and yet his gaze was completely unsettling. She was starting to get pissed off at him no matter how good-looking he was. _What was it they said again? Oh, never let them know you’re afraid. They’ll eat you alive_.

Of course, that advice was given about the popular cliques in high school, but she found that it applied here too. As Sarah would point out, it was the same predator behaviour.

“I’m not refusing cooperation. I’m _cooperating_ to the _fullest extent_ of the _law_ , and to the fullest extent of my _rights_. I have the right to know what investigation you’re involved in that would require you to search our computers. If you have a better idea about what you’re looking for, you can come back.”

“You’re impeding an active investigation,” the agent said again.

Darcy snorted. “On whom? Loki? _Please_. Whatever is on that whiteboard, it isn’t a method to jailbreak Stark Tower. Or are you accusing Jane of helping him out?”

She challenged them to answer her question—something she was sure they couldn’t do. If they said yes, Darcy would gladly bring the wrath of SI (Pepper Potts) against them, because that accusation was just crazy. Like hell was Jane trying to blow up anything – no accusation would stick against her. If they said no, then they’d have to concede that they _were_ fishing right now and back off. Either way it was a win for her.

_Alright, now how to get them out?_

“Now, I’m sure you guys know where the door is? Thanks.” She said quickly before moving to her table. _Urgh, way to be subtle_. It certainly wasn’t what Pepper would say, but it would do. She’d give them five minute before she called security, but she was sure they were smarter than that. The guy was giving her looks that could freeze her stiff and she pretended she didn’t see it. The girl looked as if she was genuinely _sorry_. Darcy wasn’t sure what to believe at this point.

“We will be seeing each other again, Miss Lewis.”

With that ominous statement, the handsome-and-a-complete-pain agent didn’t allow his partner to make her goodbyes or platitudes (or whatever it was she was about to say).

“Sure. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out!” Darcy replied before she could stop herself.

She entered her password and stared at the screen. It was a movie from several months ago that she’d thought she wanted to watch. She pushed away from the desk with a groan. There was no way she could continue idling away now, not after that visit. She was too keyed up. The contentment she had worked hard to build had been shattered now, thanks to that suited bastard.

“Oh well, I suppose there’s always paperwork,” she said out loud with a fatalistic shudder.

‘-

“We’re going to contact them as soon as we’re done, right?” Jane asked as she spooned her tortellini, chunky tomato sauce dripping from it. Sliced olive dotted her bowl.

It was fortunate that Thor had asked them what they would like for lunch half an hour ago, reminding the other two that they should heed the call of their stomachs for now. There was a very good chance that they’d still be obliviously working their way through Strange’s schematics if it was just Tony and Jane there. Thor enjoyed his conch-shell pasta casserole with the gusto of the starving. Tony was slurping up his penne with autumn mushrooms almost as much when he looked up at Jane’s question.

“Contact who?”

“Asgard.”

Tony only blinked at that. “Wait, you’re actually _serious_?”

“Of course I am. Why were we even working on this in the first place?” She had the odd feeling that they weren’t even talking in the same language. Tony swallowed his mouthful.

“Well, yeah, for _backup plans_.”

“In case of an emergency.” She continued. “Don’t you think that _now_ would be classified as one?”

“Look at it this way, Foster. We try to get the bridge to connect. With Thor’s help, we’d probably manage it by some mumbo-jumbo stuff that…” Tony was waving his hands randomly as he glanced towards Thor. The Asgardian replied promptly.

“You will be using my sigil to call Asgard. I will carve it into your bridge.”

Tony nodded. “Right. _Or_ we could help them ID us by imitating Mjölnir’s occasional background radiation, which I suppose _is_ sort of Thor’s signature too, so double certainty. You should really see how many Gauss the beauty could field some time—and what patterns!”

Jane coughed politely. “But after that, we’d have to send someone over, right?”

Tony was diverted back from waxing poetic about Mjölnir’s magnetic field as he considered her question.

“You’ve seen the power requirements—we sure as hell don’t have the tesseract on hand for that right now. Unless you want to drain New York’s power grid in a day and explain that to a livid city council. It takes time to recharge the giant ass ancient battery shit that Strange found and dumped in Basement 8. Like, more than a _month_.” Tony emphasised this with a downward stab of his fork.

“Besides, do you think Thor would be much more useful there than _here_?” He asked.

Tony’s expression was imploring to Jane for that moment. As he continued his meal easily after that, it was clear that he had meant the question to be rhetorical. Jane understood what he meant but was more hesitant.

It didn’t even have to be said between them that neither the official ‘Earth’s Einstein-Rosen Bridge Project’ or ‘Rainbow Bridge Lite’ had even been beta-tested, or stress-tested, or even gone live enough to test right now. They both know that. Tony’s estimate of ‘more than a month’ until they could plausible gather enough energy to attempt another connection was optimistic at best and flat-out dreaming at worst. Shit happens; they’re both just as aware of it even if they didn’t voice it out loud (neither unwilling to jinx the project, no matter how superstitious that was).

There’s a realistic chance that it would fall apart after the first use due to plain unexpected glitches that wouldn’t be obvious on paper. Then, they’d have to troubleshoot it.

There’s a realistic chance that they wouldn’t be able to get it up and running again for at least a _year_.

Odds are, whoever they sent would be stranded on the other side for a while.

The astrophysicist was pensive. Was she prepared to be apart again from Thor, if that was what the world asked of her? Well, she _would_ , she knew that. But what would it mean for them? What would an earth-bound mortal astrophysicist mean for an almost-immortal, galaxy-traversing god, anyway? Wouldn’t he have forgotten about what he felt for her in a century or two?

Would she be worth remembering for him? Would their relationship be worth keeping?

Tony spoke up again. “Based on what you’ve told me, I can’t imagine the Allfather is a cheerful guy. Can’t imagine how anyone else would manage to get any help we’d need speaking to him other than Thor.”

He made a very good point.

“You’re right,” Jane said softly.

“That’s why I think we don’t need any help from Asgard now,” Tony said easily, halting all of Jane’s train of thoughts.

“Wait, _what?_ ”

“Do we even look like we’re in actual danger? I don’t know about you, but I don’t think our friendly sceptical overlord neighbour is going to give us the assistance we need unless we’ve got actual, _real_ proof of danger. Probably something like how the sky is burning and falling. You know, like the last times around?”

This was aimed at both Jane and Thor, but from Thor’s peaceable silence it was clear that he did not feel that this contradicted what he knew of his father. Thus, he felt no need to correct it. Jane felt her heart sink as she realised this.

“So…”

“ _So_ , we damn well aren’t contacting Asgard now.” Tony said firmly. “There’s still a lot of ass-kicking we need to do and we can’t do that with style if the Avengers aren’t all here, isn’t that right, Rain Man?”

“I concur with your judgement, Man of Iron.” Thor said, already moving on to his fourth portion.

Jane was embarrassed at the sheer relief she felt at that announcement. From the understanding glance her fellow scientist sent her, it was clear that Tony wasn’t oblivious to it. She felt a surge of unexpected warmth towards him; _he really isn’t as shallow as he looks like—_

“Also, you should _totally_ try out this Italian restaurant on 10 th Avenue on your next date—they serve really succulent wild boar! You need to relax more and get out some time.” Tony announced.

Jane groaned and dropped her face into her hands. “Darcy put you up to this, didn’t she? Come on, ‘fess up!”

He chuckled without admitting anything, even as he prodded Thor and brought him over to the idea of going to Bottino for his next date. Jane was more than a little grateful to his understanding. Sometime later, he spoke to her in a low voice when they were a little farther from Thor.

“Relax, Girl Genius. We’ve got time.”

Jane nodded her thanks to him. It was hard to be as optimistic as he was, but she was proud of herself to have managed a smile.

Between staying with her and saving the world, Jane knew what choice she’d want Thor to make. There was also no doubt on what choice Thor himself would take. Knowing this, Jane would always continue her work on the Bifrost project. _Both_ Bifrost projects.

 _Maybe time’s the only thing I have left for now. Until it runs out_.

‘-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point, I may as well give up and admit that yes, I’m sorta-writing with an ensemble cast. I can’t seem to stop myself from going around and giving the other characters time in the limelight.
> 
> On another note, I confess I got carried away with Tony. He’s just so much fun to write. Any apparent potshots at Laurell K. Hamilton are happy accidents on my part.
> 
> The agents that Darcy encountered here are left nameless here to allow the opportunity for people to substitute them with some familiar names they might’ve seen in Agents of SHIELD. I wouldn’t dare do that directly because it’s not as if I followed the show intensively to be confident with their characterisations.
> 
> Yes, I'm back after the hiatus if at least for a while. I want to get this chapter cluster and the next done with for now. (Which by my calculations means uploading up to at least chapter XXX in the coming weeks).
> 
>    
>  The Weird and Random Glossary:
> 
>  ** _DARPA_ : Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency**, an agency of the U.S. Department of Defense responsible for the development of emerging technologies for use by the military. The budget is so large that many of the researches funded aren’t even strictly military in application. An example of this is the newer, high-tech prosthetics they're throwing money at like there's no tomorrow.
> 
>  ** _De Sitter Universe_ :** (physics, math) A universe model. Unlike the observable one we live in, the De Sitter Universe does not take into account ordinary matter (among other things). This simplification makes it a ‘toy’ universe, but even with its simplification its similarities with our observable universe makes it far easier to apply complex field equations to it and study the outcome. Applying the same thing to a more faithful rendering of the observable universe tends bog the computation down with its complexity into something not solvable with current computing power (ergo, resulting with an intractable model and a frustrated physicist).
> 
> Basically, it’s far more tractable/easy to work with while still providing a reasonably close result compared to using a higher-fidelity model of the universe. Damn, I'm not making myself too clear, am I? It shows that I haven't yet grasped the full essence of the idea.
> 
>  ** _Einstein-Rosen bridge_ :** A wormhole*.
> 
>  ** _Gauss (G)_ :** A unit of measurement of the strength of a magnetic field, also known as magnetic flux density. Definitely named after the physicist Carl Friedrich Gauss. This is not the International System unit (which is the Tesla, equal to 10^4 Gauss. Yes, this is named after the same Tesla the scientist that Tony and Jane are a fan of).
> 
> *Though I’m not sure if there’s still anyone reading this fanfic that’s unaware of this, what with the characters coming from the Thor movie where a wormhole is a pertinent plot point. I thought I’d just put it up all the same. Just in case.


	28. XXVIII. The Continuation of Politics...Part 3 (Denver)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Denver. Betty Ross finds an intruder in the lab. Bruce Banner gets on the road. Jane and Darcy see the bird’s eye view of their anomaly work._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand we have the spotlight over Denver for this chapter. I still have pity for the denizens of most small towns to not inflict an anomaly or two nearby, so I use mostly fictional names for places to be an unlucky host to them. Mostly fictional, though a few are real. 
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: A grisly overview of what happened in Denver. Ever read an in-depth report of what follows in a region when an outbreak happens? This won’t reach that level of detail, but more than one unpleasant events would be mentioned. 
> 
> More side characters in Denver mean I can make more expies for me. Virtual cookies for anyone who notices who they are (beyond the more standard OCs).

### XXVIII. The Continuation of Politics… Part 3 (Denver)

Jane hurried to the lab, feeling a little stupid that she’d overslept. It was hard to expect Thor to wake her up when that happens; he didn’t have the heart to bother her when he felt she hadn’t had enough rest. Then again, most people wouldn’t even be half as panicked as Jane because it was still a quarter past _eight_ , she was going to her own lab and was the one responsible to herself for her own schedule instead of being responsible to some boss.

But then again, Jane would always be Jane when it comes to her work.

As the doors slid open, she saw that Darcy was unusually early. That wasn’t the only thing that surprised her either—the assistant must’ve been hard at work from who-knows-when. Darcy hadn’t even said anything when Jane said they would have to split their time between several labs now and had taken their new responsibilities in a stride. The astrophysicist paused three steps from the door, staring.

“Why do we have a US map in the lab?” Jane asked.

One of the spare blackboards in the room had been drafted to hold her efforts up. Darcy was putting more pins on the map as Jane spoke.

“Morning, Janey! There’s sandwiches on the table because I figured out you wouldn’t have had breakfast yet if you’re late.”

 _That explained the hunger pangs,_ Jane thought, while ambling away to the low table. She picked the smoked salmon and leafy greens with something like sour cream and herbs. There was a satisfying crunch to it as she took a bite.

“Thanks. So, why the map?”

“Something I remembered from my history classes. It always helps you get a feel for the bigger picture if you map out the events—in our case, this is where I’d be placing the locations of our unusual weather reports.” Darcy replied, still as preppy as before. The scientist decided to say nothing about the shadows under her friend’s eyes because the best coping mechanism Jane knew was work. That, she understood.

There was a particularly large pin on Puente Antiguo.

“So, what’s with Puente Antiguo?”

Darcy shrugged. “Well, it’s kinda the first case that proved you right. Then again, if there was anything that was Anomaly Zero, it would’ve been _London_ , but I don’t think we’d ever be dealin’ with anything on the other side of the pond so we could ignore that for now.”

She nodded in agreement. That was true enough. Jane saw there was a smaller pin a few inches away from Puente Antiguo.

“What’s that black pin?” She pointed.

“Oh, that? Black Rocks, Arizona.”

Jane rolled her eyes. “I’m sure we don’t have to immediately drop in at _another_ Puente Antiguo. Are we even running out of other places to visit?”

Darcy grinned. “I placed it there so you’d know. Just in case you were feeling nostalgic.”

“No thanks. Not until another five cities that aren’t anywhere near New Mexico.” She didn’t suppress an involuntary shiver.

That had been a particularly low point in her career and Jane was _really_ not keen on reliving the post-doc subsistence living on poptarts. It was unpleasant to recall the reminders from the department that she was behind in the amount of papers she needed to publish, because that there are certain _obligations_ she needed to fulfil if she was serious about aiming for tenure. Jane was pretty sure she’d start having flashbacks once the very familiar landscape of the southwest greeted them.

“Unless we’re dead certain that an anomaly _is_ manifesting there.” Darcy replied.

“Exactly. Next!” Jane stood up from her seat and made her way to the map. She read out the names of some of the points after skipping the few in Arizona and one in New Mexico. “ _Greenvale_ , Utah. _Deckard_ , also in Utah. A bit to the east and there’s a town a bit north of _Grand Junction_ … what’s that? _White Springs_ , _Craig_ and _Langville_. Then, there are two more places with springs in their names?”

“Lots of places with springs in their names around there,” Darcy said. Jane scanned a few more pins further north from there in Wyoming, brows furrowing.

“Is it just me or are these all _really_ small towns?”

Darcy grinned. “Yep.”

Jane couldn’t repress her sigh. “It’s always like that, isn’t it?”

“Hey, complain to the maybe-anomalies, not me. There are bigger places we could hit, but I thought _you_ said that it was easier to get a clear measurement in the countryside instead of the cities so I went with that.”

 ‘-

There was equipment being dragged around in the lab next door in the dark hours of the morning and Betty Ross bolted upright from the sofa. Her eyes adjusted to the low light with little difficulty as well as the dim glow of the snow covered landscape just outside the window.

One of the (dubious) benefits of sleeping in the room next to the lab was that no visitor could possibly enter without her knowledge.

Betty did not do it on purpose. It was merely the driven schedule that she was living on in the last week or two, and the fact that she was the head of one of the research teams (and hated losing track of progress) did not help matters. She would probably be ousted from the lab at the end of the week by the team to ensure she had enough rest if she hadn’t throttled back her drive by then. This was usually masterminded by Bruce, not that she minded…much. She planned on going home tomorrow, anyway. For now, the place was still her responsibility.

Her heartbeat ratcheted up again when she heard muffled footsteps of the faceless intruder, rapid with haste. It was the light clinking of containers that worried her. The last thing they needed was for someone to try to escape with the more dangerous finds of the lab. In her place, many people would’ve frozen in fright. Others might choose to stay low or find a way to escape.

The old Betty might have done one of that.

Current Betty drew out her sidearm instead. She recalled the number of exits to the lab. There were two; one was to the quasi staff room she was sleeping in and the other was to the corridor. She supposed it could be three if she counted the glass windows. Unfortunately for her, the quasi-staffroom has no other exit except to the lab.

There was no way for her to get out except by passing whoever it was inside.

Even with her gun’s solid weight in her hands, she didn’t feel invincible, only mortal.

 _Make sure you know the number of threats around you_ , she recited to herself. She allowed herself to hope that the night watch was going to make their rounds sometime in the future. She wasn’t going to be alone for long. _You can do this, Betty_.

Standing next to the door to the lab, she opened it quietly.

The lights in the lab were on and they streamed through the narrow opening. _Who the hell flicks the switch before breaking and entering?_

For someone whose steps weren’t that well-hidden, the intruder did not actually make many noises. Betty began to notice the absence of things being smashed and broken. She made a decision to crouch and peer into the room from knee height with her gun aimed inwards.

She huffed loudly. She’d recognise the head of lush brown curls _anywhere_.

Dr. Heloise D’Argent was the only CDC epidemiologist that managed to get into Denver before the storm gave them all a giant middle finger and buried the place in snow on top of the disease outbreak at hand. The doctor almost dropped the biohazard suit she was holding under gunpoint and froze, not unlike a raccoon seconds from being road kill. Betty sighed and lowered her weapon.

“God, _Heloise!_ You scared me!”

“Betty! What the heck—I bet _you_ scared me a lot more than I scared you! I didn’t even know you could use a gun!”

“My Dad’s tone-deaf gift,” Betty replied quickly. “I have no idea how gifting a gun and teaching your daughter on the shooting range somehow made up trying to kill the guy she dated. We haven’t finished patching things up yet, but I could keep letting him try to make it up for me.”

There were also the best ex-special forces trainers that he could get once he gave up on ever getting her to stay out of harm’s way instead of diving headlong into them, but she didn’t mention that. She would never be a soldier, but she knew enough to be able to escape from a variety of situations now.

The new equipment from the military that sat side-by-side in the lab with the humbler ones belonging to the hospital also spoke of the size of General Ross’ guilt. As do several other machines from SHIELD, who would’ve shipped them later instead of earlier if not for his interference. It certainly saved them from being stuck behind the bad-tempered weather, unlike several other equipment that was planned to be sent _later_.

Heloise rolled her eyes. “Overprotective fathers, I _know_.”

Betty shook her head.

“No, my Dad _really_ tried to kill him because he ran away—he found out that his work implied he was a military science project while he never wanted to harm people.” She holstered the gun once more as she scanned the room once. “Dad even sent people to hunt him down.”

Heloise stared at her with amazement for two seconds before replying in deadpan.

“My brothers tried to castrate one of my boyfriends, once.”

Betty let out a surprised laughter, at least until she saw that behind her mildly amused look, Heloise expression didn’t change at all. She stopped herself from gaping.

“Wait, _really?_ ”

The physician sighed, pushing an errant curl right behind her ears. Betty had no idea how her colleague managed to keep her mocha-latte skin that smooth and glowing when she was sure she herself had a zombie-like pallor.

“Yes, _really_. They took cues from my father’s loud dislike of him and…assumed too much, the idiots. If I didn’t arrive there in time, it would be one heck painful reattachment surgery. Even then, a few stitches were needed.”

It was hard not to cringe at that.

“And there were no…problems afterwards?” Betty couldn’t stop herself from morbidly asking. There was a small knowing smile on her colleague’s face.

“Thankfully there was full recovery.”

“I think your brothers _just_ managed to catch up with my father.” Betty muttered.

Heloise snorted. “Not much of an achievement, I take it?”

She sighed. “When it comes to his family? Unfortunately not. So, why are you taking that suit out?”

The other scientist shrugged as she set the suit on a table and started scanning from the top. “Routine check. You know how it is. We’re pretty badly hit by the third outbreak to be down on people.”

There was something that didn’t ring quite right even as she said that. Heloise was the one commanding their efforts to track the various ailments and disease that began cropping up in the area as unusual plants and other life forms were sighted. It wasn’t as if she lacked things to do, especially when some doctors have also fallen prey to the odd diseases.

“You could’ve had any intern do this, or lab assistants.” Betty said.

“Just felt like it.”

Betty took a look around and saw instruments laid out on the table behind Heloise. It was not merely an extra pipette or syringe or ampoule. Some were all sorts of travelling gear that had become familiar to Betty. Her stomach felt like lead as she realised what the doctor intended. It explained why she looked so tense.

“You’re not checking the suit at all, are you? You’re planning on heading out.”

Heloise sighed. “Betty—”

The biochemist stepped in front of her and blocked her way out. She could hardly believe her friend’s recklessness. “Alone, Heloise? _Really?_ What happens to ‘never go out without a partner’?”

“I could get Schiavelli to go with me.” Heloise said, too easily for Betty’s liking.

“The poor guy hadn’t even finished med school yet!”

“We don’t have enough people and it was worse when Richard and Janet collapsed too! Then, there was Barbara last week.”

“And the last thing we need is to lose _you_!”

Betty stepped away when she realised they’d started raising their voices. She took a deep breath before exchanging glances again. The way Heloise tried to unclench her fists were too obvious.

“Tell me, who else could run and lead the search-and-identify but you? Who could create projections for the way any of it could spread?” Betty asked.

“There’s always O’Grady—” she began.

“Who’s busy enough already. He’d fall from exhaustion if he had to lead his team _and_ hold your position too.”

Heloise shook her head and even more curls escaped their ties. “Relieve him from his team—”

“Heloise—”

The doctor did not seem to be listening to her as she walked back and forth restlessly. She had knocked into one stool by now, but she didn’t seem to notice the pain, or even the impact itself. Neither did it slow her down. “We still have enough researchers that can fill his post. We’re not making enough progress—”

“ _Heloise_ ,” Betty reached for her hand as she heard words painful in their familiarity. “Look, it’s okay—”

“It’s _not_ okay. _We’re too damned slow and people are_ dying _for it, Betty_.” Heloise snapped. There was a melodic hint of the bayou in her voice now as she lost her previous calm mien.

The epidemiologist gripped Betty’s hand hard for a second there before loosening it again, but Betty didn’t let her let go nor did she give up. She didn’t say anything for a moment as the pain in Heloise’s voice could’ve easily been her own. Self-doubt was familiar to her the way any death row inmate is intimate with their cell. It was a prison whose every inch of length and breadth she had walked, constrained by her own insecurity. She’d faced it every time she thought she had another antidote for Bruce on hand only to see it fall apart, forcing her to face yet another failure.

Betty shook her head and held on to Heloise’ hand. The last thing she needed now was to be alone.

“It’s _okay_ because we did everything we could. I’m losing sleep and _you’re_ losing sleep and any more than this would harm more than help. We’d get _sloppy_. Heloise, look at me. _There’s nothing else you could do_.”

“There _is_ ,” Heloise reply was just as firm. “You know as well as I do that there’s a part of the city that’s starting to get off the grid. It’s those damned bots that suddenly patrol the air around there. If we could get some feet on the ground to actually _check_ —”

“—just to have you _dead?_ ” She asked sceptically.

Heloise’s voice was firm even when she looked away. “They don’t shoot people on feet that don’t attack them. They only shoot cars indiscriminately—and well, any other vehicles passing.”

Betty took another step to stare her down. “And you’re saying this as if the bots are the worst thing you could encounter. They’re not. You forgot the _exobiology_.”

Their eyes met and the doctor rubbed her face, fatigue seeping out from every pore as she was reminded of the new and hostile plant life sprouting here and there.

“I _know_. It’s just…the _data_. If we can’t send drones in, then there’s no choice but to collect it manually or we’d miss yet _another_ outbreak, exactly like when the third one began. We can’t…we can’t afford to be blind to this, Betty.”

“You know what? You’re right. But going out with the way things are right now is still suicide,” Betty answered. She wasn’t any closer to any solutions and she didn’t like it any better. Heloise turned to her.

“But what else can we _do?_ Sit here and do _nothing?_ ”

Betty looked away, because helplessness was something that sat wrongly on both of them and just staring at the raw emotion in Heloise’s face made the pain in her chest that much more acute.

It was then that she remembered something else. Or more accurately, _someone_.

“No, we send someone who _won’t_ get hurt,” she answered, and she pulled her cell phone out of her pocket looking for a familiar number. Heloise was still staring at her doubtfully.

“Who _wouldn’t_? I just found out last week that _Barbara_ was also a SHIELD agent, but she’s _still_ hurt when she carried off that mushroom before it could explode in spores.”

“I’m not trying to find a SHIELD agent. I’m talking about a member of the Avengers,” Betty said.

 _Bruce, we’re counting on you_.

‘-

It was hard to explain to people outside about what happened in Denver. It was not just about the city any more at this rate. People from all over the place had gone there hoping to find a cure, some explanation, clarification, _anything_ other than the news that never told them of anything important (of course not. He would bet there was an information blackout in the name of national security) _._ Almost the whole place was afflicted.

If he had to say something, he would say that the state was sick too.

This realisation crystallised in Bruce’s mind over the weeks he had spent there. It began from the early days of the epidemic, to the time when quarantine orders were imposed, to the days of the eventual evacuation. He’d had to decontaminate himself thoroughly before he was allowed to board a plane back to New York for the Avengers meeting—as harmless plunging in a bath of light acid was when Hulking out, it was still a prickly annoyance. Still, what he experienced was nothing on what other people had to undergo.

Evacuation was an option only for people that were cleared to evacuate. He had seen the faces of parents gushing with relief when they were stated to be free from infectious agents plunge immediately into despair when the results of their child’s test came back positive for infection or other contamination. There was no better opportunity to see people show their true colours than in a crisis and he had seen both uplifting examples as well as demoralising ones. He had seen a businessman made the split second decision to leave the town alone once he found out that his wife was infected. The man did not even give her the courtesy of a goodbye. He had seen an extended family decide to stay after they sent the children away for the sake of a suffering grandparent.

The hospitals were overwhelmed. By ‘hospitals’ he was also including the one field hospital SHIELD managed to set up with a branch of the armed forces before the weather effectively locked them in. Walking the corridors by the wards also meant dodging the beds laid outside, as there were not enough room inside. It also meant listening to the desperate tones of family members, and most uncomfortably for him, the quiet sobs in the night and the blank hopeless looks.

Snow fell slowly but steadily smothered the place. What the disease did not deign to take, the White Death of Winter reaped. (Bruce had no doubt that winter was here, no matter how early it was).

He snorted. He never realised that he had a romantic streak. And yet there was something beautiful in the snow’s encompassing whiteness, no matter how deadly. There was something of its quiet grace that made him think of the endless canter of a pale stallion.

It made him wonder just how much more claustrophobic it was to be stuck in one of the military bunkers underneath the mountains nearby, physically uninfected but slowly driving yourself mad while you watch the world outside that you know die little by little.

There had been so many bodies.

So many family members never to be interned and destined only to end up as a name on stone or an empty grave. The fate of all biohazardous materials had been simple: complete and utter destruction. This was the fate of the _lucky_ dead. The unfortunate ones had experienced unexpected mutations or symptoms that were inexplicable even when taking into account the new and alien illnesses spreading.

Dr. Piers ‘ _call me Abel_ ’ Abelard, head of the pathology department, summed their desperation best:

 _The choice between letting the dead rests and saving the living is not a choice at all_.

His decision was usually to flash freeze the relevant organs in liquid nitrogen for further study (the only reason they did not preserve the whole body was because they did not have enough space in the hospital’s freezer).

Many of the dead ended up being taken apart on the autopsy table.

At the beginning, people were still frozen in shock and disbelief, or nursing a slow-growing outrage at this and trying to stall. Abel gathered what members of his team was there and chose his cousin’s body to dissect, gathering the information they needed and breaking people out of their inaction. Some people may have called him callous to be able to do that. He had been insulted or yelled at outright but he never did deny or reply them, preferring to just walk away. Captain America had asked him once why he didn’t say anything in return.

Abel’s answer was short. _It’s a waste of time, isn’t it? I have more important things to do_. And with that, he returned to commune with dead bodies once more.

It did not exactly improve on his cold image. If asked about why he chose his cousin’s body, his answer was usually a wordless shrug, with perhaps some detail about how his cousin was one of the more appropriate subject considering how far the disease had progressed before death had taken him, his symptoms and perhaps even his blood work. Should he have excepted his cousin from it when death had been the great equaliser? Should he have taken someone else’s corpse instead, just to spare his cousin’s?

 _No_ , he had answered Bruce’s question. _It would not be fair_.

The people close to him knew him better than most. He merely held himself to a higher standard of professionalism and dedication.

Abel would not expect anyone else to give up their dead family members if he would not bring himself to. Thus, he would be the first.

If after the autopsy was done he ended up emptying his stomach into the toilet bowl, no one saw it but his old friend from med school. Heloise was there to help him, prepared with a change of clothes pulled from his overnight bag. He didn’t even tell her of the autopsy. She merely called ahead to his team to check his plans because she knew his stubbornness and had seen it coming after the decision was made (she had always complained about his tendency for self-flagellation, but for the moment she gave him his peace). If Bruce had seen him staggering back out of a bathroom supported by her, if he ended up helping on Abel’s other side, he didn’t say a word to anyone else. He suspected that either Abel or Heloise’s people were as discreet and loyal.

After the first week, it was clear that none of the illnesses were due to some unknown radiation—that meant his work as the nuclear physicist there was done. Even while assisting in identifying all the new and alien proteins and other biochemical work, Bruce easily found himself with more spare time than he ever wanted (time to think also meant too much time to wallow in his own misery). He ended up offering to check the equipment in radiology.

When Betty called him in the early hours of the morning, Bruce jumped out of bed and headed to the hospital without delay.

So Bruce was here, in the clunky car with broken air conditioner that nobody quite remembered who it belonged to, driving well before the sun rises. _Probably some junior staff that had already left_ , he could recall Abel saying, before the pathologist told him where the keys were kept in his lab. Some staff member had covered the upholstery with plastic—not so comfortable, but would make disinfecting the already threadbare car even easier. Much easier than any of the other vehicles available. Clunky or not, that was probably why most people used it on the field than any other cars—it was unofficially shared between the labs at this point.

Based on how pathetic the car was, Bruce guessed some poor, nameless student or intern owned it.

Now, he suspected the unfortunate person was dead.

‘-

It did not escape Bruce’s notice that the pine trees around him were no longer spread out. The dirt track seemed darker now as less light fell upon it, and he was sure that a good number of the trees were taller than anything near town. Their trunks were thicker the branches dense enough to blot out daylight and the undergrowth was wilder. With the overcast sky and the occasional snow fall, he wouldn’t know it was just a little past noon as the world stayed a gloomy grey.

A saner man would’ve turned back by now, but most people do not have Hulk-sized guilt complexes like Bruce Banner’s. The military-grade cell phone that Betty had handed to him crackled to life on the dashboard—he hadn’t closed it even when the conversation dropped off a minute ago.

“ _Any chance that you’re on the way back, yet, Banner?_ ” Bob Marsh asked.

He could recognise the upbeat voice of Dr. Marsh coming through. Bob was a native of Denver whose easy-going nature meant he accepted Betty being the head of their research team without a blink. _More paperwork that I won’t have to do_ , he’d joked.

“Well, I _am_ going to go back. Soon,” Bruce answered.

“ _That would mean you’re_ still _going around checking more houses, right?_ ” The physician noted shrewdly. “ _Well, it’s on your hide and not mine, but don’t expect me to back you up if Ross wants to know why you’re still around Boulder by now._ ”

There was a pause. “Well…”

“ _You’re not even around Boulder yet, are you? How_ far _away are you?_ ” Marsh sounded worried now.

He dithered. “Some north and west from there, a couple of miles…”

“ _Jaysus, don’t tell me you’re up in the mountains._ ”

Bruce took the time to look out the window. Well, the road he’d been on did have a slight incline, but that didn’t mean he was already in the Rockies, did it? The uphill angle was really slight, mind you, but it had been going on for a while. He did notice the houses were getting farther and farther between and thought that only out-and-out hermits lived here… Bruce could hear a huff on the other side of the line.

“ _You are, aren’t you? Dammit. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know—plausible deniability and all that when Ross chews your ass out._ ”

He rolled his eyes. “Real helpful there, Bob.”

“ _Hey, if I were you, I’d apologise to Sheriff Daley and everything, but I won’t agree to check on the ‘poor folks’ that might or might not still be in their really far off houses. I mean, we thought all those bots were gone, and what do you get? Morse was downed—I don’t believe it’s just some stupid spores that got her. Probably one of those damn bots. No pay is enough to get me out there. Then again, maybe that’s why I’m not a superhero_.”

Bruce smiled a little at the good-natured dig. He knew well enough that the doctor could’ve gotten himself out of the city early in the outbreak but didn’t. “You’re selling yourself too short.”

“ _Seriously, you better come up with a good explanation, because here’s Ross_.”

He could hear a bump coming through—perhaps the phone was being knocked against the table—a little more skittering sound, and then there was the smooth and confident tones of Betty’s voice.

“ _So, how far are you from Boulder?_ ” She asked.

His discomfort was four times it had been before. “Well…I’m not near Boulder yet.”

She pulled the phone away from her head and cursed quietly. Bruce could still hear the tail ends of the words even, then.

“ _So, you’re_ not _near Boulder,_ ” Betty stated. It was hard to discern the other emotion she was holding back. His heart rate was starting to worryingly go up and he took a long, _long_ breath before speaking.

“Uh, no, not really.”

Silence stretched for several seconds until even Bruce was getting antsy.

“ _Two hours ago, you’ve collected the last sample and data that we’d need, which was already more than sufficient. You said that you’d just be checking on several homes ‘on the way back’_.”

Betty was quiet again and it worried him far more than if she was telling him off about how _stupid_ and _careless_ he’d been. One of those times was when he let Tony’s loud musings to lead him into trying to see if he can come up with something to denature _bacillus anthracis_ toxin quickly under homeostatic conditions of the human body. Maybe find a radiation wavelength they’re sensitive to. Of course to get the toxin meant that he’d have to have live cultures of the damned bacillus in the first place and _of course_ he didn’t even think about that when he tried to procure them…

Suffice to say, he was sure he earned every worried rant she gave then.

He cleared his throat. “Betty?”

She sighed. “ _I just have to ask. You know you’re being_ really _careless, don’t you?_ ”

“I know. But then, I’m not most people. I’d live through most things that would kill them.” He said. He was pleading now. “I’m sorry, I really am. I just… I just have to do this.”

Silence crackled from the other end for a few seconds.

“ _I understand_.” Betty said.

He had a feeling that there were a lot more things she’d left unsaid because she would rather tell them to him face-to-face. He thought now as he did times before that her life would’ve been simpler if she’d just cut him out of it—but no, _she_ wouldn’t even allow him to do that and even berated him of his idiocy the few times that he tried. Betty was as stubborn as she was intelligent.

She was making it harder for him to stop loving her and believe him, he really, _really_ tried. Right now, he’s still looking for better alternatives after going all around the world didn’t even help get her out of his mind.

“ _Now, don’t close the phone because I’m going to use the GPS to track you down_.” Her voice was brisk.

“Is it really necessary?”

He could hear a door being opened and the lab chatter fading away in the background. Betty must’ve left the room to go somewhere else. Maybe it was to wherever the sigint guys hang out, whether it was the SHIELD people that had dropped in or the Air Force or Air Force Reserve peeps from the bases nearby that were out in force.

“ _You heard what Bob said, right? Barbara’s wounds aren’t due to_ spores _, even if the spores itself were toxic. The least we could do is to warn other people about the dangerous areas._ ”

He couldn’t argue her point there. He slowed down as he spoke. The tree line had drawn back from pressing against the (barely there) dirt track and he could, maybe, see a slip of the sky again. Not that the dark clouds were any more cheering than it had been before, especially when it hadn’t been that thick this morning.

“ _How much farther do you have to go before you can turn back?_ ” She asked.

“Two more addresses,” he answered. “There are two others, but I think it’s safe to say that it’s beyond reasonable distance. My GPS is glitching for some reason, but I think I can already see the next one.”

The place he’d found seemed more of a meeting hall than a cabin, as it could easily reach two-stories high in height. Its windows were just as large, though there was a slight oddity to them that he couldn’t put his finger to. Perhaps it was their roughly hewn nature? No, that’s not it, never mind. _A meeting hall in the middle of nowhere_ , he mused. He wasn’t too surprised of its presence if the stories of reclusive sects in the region was true—either breakaways from Mormonism or from other branches of Christianity. He brought the car to a stop and parked it.

“ _Stay safe. Don’t close the phone._ ”

“You too.”

He slipped the phone into his shirt pocket and stepped out of the car, pulling his coat closed. 

‘-

He stepped through the thickening layer of snow and made his way to the door. The log building rose up out of the mist, a blurrier version of the Hall on a Hill. Where he’d expected to see double doors, only a single gigantic one met him as he stared up; _unusual choice for a meeting hall_ , he mused. There was no handle, only a large door knocker that was placed too high. _Maybe it wasn’t a door knocker and more like a decoration_.

The cell phone in his pocket crackled once or twice, but he wasn’t sure he could make out any words from Betty. The signal was already going down the drain.

Bruce knocked. “Hello? Is anyone home?”

No reply. Not that he’d expected one. Maybe if he wandered around a little he might find a cabin of sorts where people could actually live in. With this in mind, he walked around the hall; the shrubs there were mostly evergreen with a novel bluish tint to them and reaching to his head at parts. His mind tried to find a reason as to why they didn’t cut it down as he tried to find some minor path with difficulty.

The Other Guy didn’t like the place. As inconvenient as it was to try calming himself down, Bruce could relate. Now that he was trying to observe his surroundings, it was clear that the place was quiet—too quiet, the forest too dark. It was hard to not just Hulk out on the spot and rampage through the nearest trees until something came out, but he’d rather not do that yet. Not until he could get more clues about what on earth was weird about the place.

“ _Bruce, are y—_ ” a hiss of static. “ _There’s—ssss—ful—ssss_ ”

 “Let’s stay calm about this. There’s still nothing yet,” he muttered to himself.

The Other Guy thought that the moment they found something would be too late. They’d be ambushed. He sighed. _Let’s stay in the shadows, then_. Even if the brambles were a pain in the ass to move through.

“ _Can’t—sssssssss—you._ ”

He muted the speaker of his phone. Betty would still be able to hear anything from his side if the signal was of any use, but when he couldn’t even make out what she was saying, the cell phone would only be a distraction now. He crept into the shade of the great pines beside the hall as the hairs at the back of his neck stood up and he crouched down carefully while keeping himself still. A light snow had started to fall again and he pulled the collar of his jacket closer as the back of his neck was uncomfortably cold.

Branches fell in the forest some distance away from them. Bruce forced himself to regulate his breathing, remembering what his tai chi master had taught him. All the muscles in his body was screaming at him to run, to chase whatever was there—to look for a fight. _It could just be the wind making them fall,_ he reasoned. He forced them all to back down even as his heartbeat picked up its pace a little.

There was the crack of crushed branches and the Other Guy growled in his head. Bruce winced, still rigorously controlling his breath. That one was not the work of any forest creature, he knew, yet silence stretched once more, uncomfortable and unwanted. He leaned back against a tree, relaxed and stayed still, keeping his silhouette beneath the shade. He only thought about the deadly bots for a few seconds before he shook the thought away. They weren’t exactly built for stealth—if they were here, he’d known it from five miles away. Either from all the branches they were cutting down to make way, or from the noise of their rotors as they flew in formation above the forest.

 _No, it’s something else_.

Bruce could wait. Patience had become a good friend of his in the years wandering the world as a nameless traveller. It might’ve been fifteen minutes later or it might’ve been almost an hour when he could feel tremors on the ground.

Nothing was visible among the pine trees yet but the slight curling mist.

The ground shook harder and told him of a coming stampede; or perhaps an earthquake, it was hard to tell. A tree fell and crashed down some distance to his right, the trunk larger than he could encircle with his arms. Figures formed in the unclear fog and came closer—when the first of them stepped out, the car was around their waist and they were just shades darker than the sky. More and more of the giants came out from the tree line, forming their own veritable forest of blue around him, red eyes gleaming.

He was surrounded.

The Other Guy thought he wasn’t going to hold back to death and muscled his way to the fore. Bruce’s metabolism went into overdrive and the Hulk was in the game again. With a roar, he barrelled into the first three frost giants he’d seen, sending the back rows down like dominoes. Bored with the mass of people, _stuff_ in his way, he jumped, cracking the ribs and vertebrae of whatever unfortunate giants happened to be underfoot at the time. There were shouts of alarm and angry yells following him, but Hulk certainly didn’t care nor did he keep track. Every time he landed he stepped on at least two Jötnar.

From a distance, a deranged green pinball shot through the forest, flattening anything in its way.

‘-

“We can’t locate him.”

“What do you mean ‘we can’t locate him’?” Betty asked. The guy who’d been trying to triangulate Bruce’s cell phone gave her an apologetic look as he turned his monitor in her direction.

“Well, we _could_ to within an area of twenty-something miles, but it’s hard to be any more precise. It’s not the location—there’s too much noise and interference to the signal there, but I don’t think it’s intentional. I don’t know _what_ it is, though.”

“ _Dammit!_ ”

Even the choppy sound they last heard from Bruce’s phone told of roars, shouts and the clang of metal. ‘ _Weapons’_ was all that Betty could think of and it unsettled her.

Bob came to find her from the lab where everyone else had been trying to hear about what was up too. He read the worry in her expression immediately.

“Don’t worry Ross. He’s a fighter; heck, he’s a lot more resilient than any of us folks are. He’d be alright.”

“I know,” she said. Her eyes were hard and not many people could meet her gaze for long. “Still doesn’t stop you from worrying, does it?”

He shook his head. “No, it doesn’t.”

‘-

As Darcy finished up reading more reports and updated the master list on the cities, more pins joined their brethren on the map. Sometime around lunch, Jane noticed that Darcy hadn’t gone back to her table to read up some more. The quietness in the lab was starting to get to Jane as her assistant hadn’t even picked up her usual chatter. Darcy was still in front of the map, but she was staring at it from some six feet away instead of doing anything more.

“Darcy?”

“Jane, I think you need to come here.”

The odd firmness in her voice had Jane standing up immediately, her legs made way to Darcy’s side with haste. Her friend hadn’t even looked away as she came, too transfixed on her work. Jane turned.

“Tell me what you see,” Darcy said.

The map had more pins now, even if they weren’t dense yet. Jane’s eyes couldn’t help following the cloud of their coloured heads, from the southernmost one in New Mexico and upwards almost into British Columbia. They didn’t have weather reports from there, of course, and for all she knew there might even be anomalous weather reports there too.

“Is it just me, or does the largest cluster fall over the Rockies?” The astrophysicist wondered.

“It’s not just you.” Darcy replied. “Now, you saw what state had the most pins, right?”

“Colorado,” Jane answered with a faint voice as she saw that most of the other pins are in states _next_ to Colorado. “Shit. The issue goes back to Denver again, isn’t it?”

Darcy made a worried sound of agreement from the back of her throat. Jane’s mind found the most unfortunate connections right at that point.

“Portals! _Fuck_ , if some anomalies are portals and there’s a large probability that many of them are in Colorado, then maybe _all_ of them are attempted portals! This isn’t just some minor _incursion_ —it’s easily an _invasion!_ ”

Contrary to Jane’s shock, the assistant had _moved_ before Jane even finished her sentence. Darcy ran to their tables and then back. She had photographed the map on the board with her phone as well as Jane’s with impressive speed before tossing Jane her cell phone. The scientist caught it in surprise.

“You try to reach Tony. I’ll get Pepper.”

Darcy’s own phone was already in her grasp. Her left hand already through the motions of calling a contact and she lifted it to her ear. Her eyes met Jane’s and they were just as sombre.

“Just in case either one of them is in a meeting, one of us would still get the other.”

‘-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Random Weird Words and Stuff:
> 
> **_Exobiology_ :** The study and search for extraterrestrial life.
> 
> Previously I sort of confused the term’s use with _xenobiology_ (since the Greek root of ‘xenos’ means _stranger_ , _guest_ , which is the closest thing you’d get to the word _alien_ in the language). Apparently, the current use of the term xenobiology applies to biology that is not yet familiar to science or found in nature. In fact, it concerns itself with systems that doesn’t use DNA, RNA and the ubiquitous 20 amino acids that life-as-we-know-it uses. It mostly applies to synthetic biology than anything. So there. Now you know the same bits of random trivia that I collect :p.
> 
>  ** _Sigint, SIGINT_ :** _Signals Intelligence_ (intelligence), intelligence gathering by method of intercepting signals. To quote Wikipedia's brevity, it’s subdivided into two more categories; the interception of communications between people (COMINT), and the interception of electronic signals (ELINT).


	29. XXIX. The Continuation of Politics...Part 4 (Mobilisation)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Pepper and Maria are in a teleconference. Darcy and Jane follow after their respective errands. Tony finds out he’s the one holding fort for now. There is a civil disagreement. Pepper has a few questions for Darcy._

### XXIX. The Continuation of Politics... Part 4 (Mobilisation)

The meeting room was an exercise in seamless futuristic interior with occasional touches of mahogany for warmth and references to classic wood-panelled rooms of last century or so. The giant screen covered one end of the room while clear panels of glass presented the high-rise city skyline on its opposite wall. No speaker was visible but the sound quality was excellent.

At the other end of the table from the screen was an empty chair. To the right and left of that was Pepper Potts, CEO of Stark Industries in a white suit and Maria Hill, Acting Director of SHIELD New York in SHIELD’s usual leather outfit. This was a meeting that took several days to arrange with the aides of Ms. Potts exchanging relentless messages with Maria Hill’s assistants.

“ _As lovely as it is to see you, Ms. Potts, we all know that this isn’t just a social call_ ,” Dr. Doom said from the screen, his voice deceptively polite.

“Yes, I am at comforted by your understanding, but I’m afraid I have to be straightforward,” Pepper said. “There are several things that we’d like to clarify with you.”

He seemed mildly interested than anything. “ _Oh, have you? Do tell_.”

On the large screen was the brilliant inventor-turned-statesman Viktor von Doom, sitting at the desk of his impressive office in Latveria. It was a place calculated to impress—from the tall ceiling and finely worked details of his window’s Austro-Hungarian architecture, the plush red curtains framing said window to the panoramic view of his palace grounds. Yet at the same time it was decorated with austere colours and nothing on his desk were useless frills. Here was a man of power who had a purpose with the discipline to achieve it.

Now that the preliminary greeting, introduction and polite talk were over, they could move on to the actual matters that had been on everyone’s mind—at the very least, everyone in New York as opposed to Europe.

“The autonomous mobile units sighted in Denver look distressingly like yours, Dr. Doom. They are also heavily armed and hostile.” Maria stated. A little more steel in her voice and it would sound like the beginning of an interrogation—something that Pepper gave a friendly reminder about a while ago. It was clear that the agent had regarded her current tone as measurably improved already.

“ _There are only so many aerodynamic designs that an inventor can come up with, Director, especially with size and material constraints. My designs are already rather well known as one of the best. Would it be a surprise to know that others have copied them time and again? They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery._ ”

For all his politesse, there was something discomfiting about his piercing eyes.

“So you think these are only imitations of your work?” Pepper asked.

“ _I wouldn’t know for sure, but it’s not a possibility I will discount_.” He answered.

“Our forces in Denver have brought more than one of them down. Out of the few that are not completely obliterated, some have been quite _enlightening_.” As Maria said this, she keyed in the commands. The hologram of a broken bot appeared with a blue glow in the middle of the table. A few hand gestures zoomed the view to a particular engine part, where _Made in Latveria_ was stamped over it.

“This isn’t an imitation.”

“ _We do a brisk trade on all models of our drones_ ,” Dr. Doom continued just as calmly. “ _Despite our best efforts to ensure that we only sell to responsible parties and upstanding nations, members of the global community, there are…weaknesses in the system that can be exploited._ ”

“You mean you have no idea how it came to be here?” Pepper asked.

“ _If you could give me the serial number, we can trace its last whereabouts was to our knowledge._ ”

Pepper remembered shrewdly that there was no trace of any serial numbers on the automaton parts and carcasses that they had. It had all been sanded or worn away. This passing thought was not visible on her face.

“What concerns SHIELD is that this is no mere drone, Dr. Doom. This is one of your so-called _bots_ , well known for the hive mind they could sustain with their rudimentary AI.” Maria said. Another swish and the hologram of the engine fragment disappeared. In its place was several snapshots taken from their first sightings. “Not to mention that their armaments are a far cry from anything the civilian models sport.”

“ _Again, Latveria is not the only users of the bots. These things do happen, despite my best intentions. My apologies_.” He gave an almost ironic nod in lieu of a bow from behind his desk.

Pepper could see Maria clenching her fists under the table and unclenching them again from particular twitches of her arm muscles.

“Well, I’m glad we’d cleared a potential misunderstanding up,” Pepper replied smoothly. “As the head of a sovereign nation and a concerned world citizen, I am sure this has been distressing to you too.”

“ _Most distressing_ ,” Doom agreed.

“I am optimistic that we can count on your assistance, then, to bring down the ones that are still at large in Denver?” Pepper asked again, right before Maria could utter a sharp rebuke or disbelief at his consistent denial. Her smile was still serene and friendly.

“ _We are still rebuilding ourselves after the unfortunate eruption of Doomberg. It is unfair to expect me to voluntarily weaken my creations when my country is in peril._ ”

“And you have our sympathies for that. There are more than a handful of international organisations entering to assist on that count, including the Red Cross and the Red Crescent,” Pepper answered.

“ _It is not enough_.” He answered.

“There was an increase in volcanic activity even before the eruption happened and we have given warnings too, then. What else could we do that would not disrespect Latveria’s sovereignty?” She asked, her voice had stayed mild and level. Both of her palms were laid open on the table. _Surely we could not pass your borders wily-nily without a good reason? Without permission?_ That was what the gesture said.

“It is worrying that your very _unique_ creations are involved in a hostile act towards another nation that is nothing less than a declaration of war. We are as reluctant to accuse Latveria of aggression as you are to indulge in it, I am sure, and as you are worried for your people, we are worried for ours. A display of charitable goodwill would help alleviate the unpleasant picture the evidences so far have given us.”

Pepper had neatly sidestepped the elephant in the room—that SHIELD highly suspected that Doom was actively involved and Doom certainly had all his excuses and alibis in line.

“ _I am merely an inventor, Ms. Potts, the same way that Tony Stark is. It is not as if he has never mistakenly or even knowingly sell arms to people who can misuse them, isn’t it?_ ” The jab was light but sharp. Pepper was prepared for it—Tony’s past would never completely leave him. Maria’s eyes flickered to her in a split-second, but the redhead barely even blinked. If it was possible, her smile was even wider.

For most people, she was nothing short of cheerful. If Tony had seen her expression right now as he entered the room, he would turn around and walk right back to find some place to bunker down and avoid any future explosions. This was actually one of the faces she had just before heads started to roll. Her smile did not even falter.

“ _Exactly!_ I’m glad you understood me so well. Our best intentions are not enough. Sometimes the worst of what could happen does occur. I’m sure you agree that it is better to deal with such unfortunate events promptly and decisively.”

“ _I feel that Latveria is pressured to assist just because of a coincidence in drone origin._ ”

She chuckled. “I don’t believe anyone can actually pressure you to do anything you don’t want, Doctor, no matter how powerful they are. What I choose to trust in right now is your sense of benevolence, that our shared heritage of humanity is enough to move you to lend what little aid you can. Every little bit matters, Dr. Doom.”

Surprisingly, it was Maria who spoke up next. Her tone was still grudging, even if it wasn’t awkward.

“We would be glad of any assistance you could provide.”

Pepper nodded. “Please. It would be of some help.”

The stare down between the three of them went on for a little more while, at least until Doom allowed himself the slightest of nods. “ _Very well. I provide some information on how to disable some of them for a while, but that is the most I can give. Don’t expect me to voluntarily disarm myself for your interfering powers_.”

“As I’ve said before, every little bit matters.” Pepper’s voice was firm. “Now, how are we going to do this?”

Their talks proceeded for a little more from that point on, but it was mostly about the outline of the technical operations. When the broad outlines were sufficiently written in, they agreed to hand the details over to their aides. The final greetings were said as well as some tepid thanks on the job well done. Then, the satellite connection with Latveria cut off. Pepper moved to the seat at the end of the table and accessed the computer hidden in it, ensuring that all communications to and from the room other than Jarvis had indeed been cut off.

She would not put it beyond Dr. Doom to try to infiltrate Stark Industries’ network piggybacking on his own call.

“Are we clean, Jarvis?” Pepper asked to the room. Jarvis’ voice rang out.

“We’re clean, Ms. Potts. I wish you a good day.”

“Thank you.”

She sat back down on her previous seat, right across Maria Hill. The SHIELD agent had been content to simply observe her before then.

“I have no idea how you can be so relaxed in front of him.” She said.

 “I’m sure your best deep cover agents can easily best me,” Pepper deflected. The other woman nodded after considering that.

“True, and it does not make it any less impressive. Still, I think the bots’ involvement in the attacks reeks of his own hand.” Maria said.

“Regardless of whether it is or it isn’t, we’ll gain nothing by accusing him directly. Without enough evidence, we’d just seem hysterical or too eager to use him as a scapegoat.” Pepper said. She knew enough about avoiding the pitfalls of apparent hysterics; a male leader can be visibly angry and would still be taken seriously, but a female one runs the risk of being painted as ‘too emotional’ or ‘unable to handle the pressure’. She was used to having to be twice as competent to be taken seriously.

“Don’t you think we have enough circumstantial evidence?”

Pepper shook her head. “Not for any international courts, no. He hides his tracks very well.”

“And now we’ll have his agents pretending to help us and spy on us.” Maria’s tone was bleak and just short of accusing. “For all the help that would get us.”

Pepper’s smile was pointed. “Oh, he’ll _help_ , you don’t have to doubt that. At the very least if he _doesn’t_ or if he is detrimental instead, you’d have the proof you’d need to accuse him of hostility. For what else could it be, if you could prove that he’s actively trying to undermine you?”

The pause went for a few beats. An observant person would be able to note that Maria Hill’s eyes widened by a fraction.

“Because of his appearance of neutrality, he’s forced to give us assistance.” The agent stated her thoughts slowly.

Pepper nodded. “Exactly. Would he want to give the rumours and our suspicions credence? Considering of all the times he travelled to the United States for the labs that worked with his inventions, or all the museums he’s interested in, I think he would like to seem neutral for a while longer.”

_Keep your friends close and your enemies closer_.

 ‘-

Darcy entered the first elevator opened to her. Its graceful glass walls or even the city view visible from where she was standing barely impressed her right now when she had many things on her mind.

“Jarvis, I need to find Pepper.”

The AI chimed from the elevator’s sound system.

“I’m sorry Miss Lewis, but Ms. Potts is in a meeting right now.”

She cursed. “Dammit, Jarvis! This is important! It’s _life-and-death_ sort of important!”

“Does this have anything to do with your conversation with Dr. Foster in the lab?” Jarvis asked.

“Yes!”

“ _Requesting permission to access audio recording_.” Jarvis said. There was something a little different from his voice when he said that—it was more mechanical, its tones less human. Darcy stared dumbly at the elevator door until she realised that it was probably part of older protocols, dating back to some time when Tony’s information network did not quite contain a full-blown AI yet.

As she took the time to think, Darcy began to realise why it was so and the picture came together in her mind as she figured it out. So, Tony kept a recording of most of the public areas, but kept the database for it separate from the AI. It was rendered inaccessible to Jarvis unless his privilege was escalated, and the only people who could do that were the people who had been recorded themselves. To maintain that separation, the control system couldn’t exactly be a part of Jarvis—it had to be a different system, like an older protocol. This struck a balance between the need for information and the need for privacy. Like morality, it was another layer of checks and balance for an AI. Tony was a _genius_.

“Permission given by Darcy Lewis.” Darcy said. “Come _on_ , do your magic, Jarvis.”

“ _Permission accepted_.” The odd sterile tone answered.

It took barely a second for Jarvis to ‘listen’ to the audio in its entirety. “I can see what you meant by an emergency, Miss Lewis.”

“Yeah, now make sure Jane could contact Tony too, alright?”

“I have taken care of that. I have informed Mr. Stark that Dr. Foster bears important news for him directly to the implant to his auditory nerves.”

“Great! Wait, what do you mean Tony has an _implant_ to his _nerves_?”

Darcy’s thoughts came to a crashing halt. She was sure she hadn’t ever heard about it before. It was the sort of thing that would be covered by a good chunk of the media if it was true.

“The details are classified and of a higher clearance level.” He replied. She sighed. Well, that was what she got for talking with an AI. She supposed she could always ask Tony directly about it.

“So, where can I find Pepper?”

A pause. “I suggest that you go to the cafeteria or other places of dining first.”

“ _Jarvis,_ ”

“By my estimates, Ms. Potts would be done in around half an hour. I will inform you by then.”

“But the emergency—”

“The news would have been brought before Mr. Stark by Dr. Foster, who is on a less urgent meeting than Ms. Potts.” Jarvis finished. Darcy sighed. It wasn’t as if she was going to win arguing against him. “Don’t worry Miss Lewis; the world will not fall apart if you take a break. You look like you could use a cup of hot chocolate.”

She smiled. Whoever programmed that into Jarvis deserved cookies. She knew that some people would argue against Jarvis being in any way alive, but Darcy didn’t care. He was alive enough for her.

“Thanks, Jarvis. I guess I needed to hear that.”

“You’re welcome. My observations of Mr. Stark have shown that he needed to hear that too from time to time, though it would work best if Ms. Potts is the one delivering it.”

“Ha! You can say _that_ again.”

‘-

Tony said goodbye to the scientists and engineers with a heavy heart and walked out of the lab, still in his lab coat.

The problem with emergencies is that you can’t cherry-pick the meetings you want them to interrupt you from. Tony would’ve been a lot happier if it was a meeting with accountants or financial comptrollers that he was cut from instead of a down-and-dirty talk with the R&D roboticists of Stark Industries, but life as Iron Man has its costs as well as perks. He wondered what Jane Foster needed to tell him that Jarvis contacted him directly—and Jarvis knew the channel was only for emergencies.

Like, _dire_ emergencies, where someone was going to die and he was unreachable by conventional means because he was in the middle of nowhere like Siberia, Taklamakan desert or _Antarctica_. His ideal day-to-day preference for the implant was to keep its radio silence 99% of the time.

He didn’t need anyone even getting an _inkling_ of what he had, not one vague rumour, not one conspiracy theory. The last thing any extreme nutjobs needed was to hear was how Tony Stark connected his brain to his supercomputer. Cue the rise of the Luddite witch hunts.

And they wouldn’t even be halfway right about what he had, but _meh_ , that was par for the course for mass media and the more complicated stuffs that he made—what else was new?

“So, where’s Dr. Foster and her emergency?” Tony asked out loud to the thin air.

“She is currently bearing in this direction. I have arranged a small meeting room on this floor for your purposes and if I lead her there now, you will arrive within four minutes of each other.” Jarvis chimed from the nearest speaker. He nodded.

“Swell. Lead on, Macduff.”

A thoughtful pause.

“I’m not sure that’s how the quotation goes.”

Tony groaned. “I know _,_ I _know_. It just sounds cooler this way. You can school me on Shakespeare later, Jarvis. Show me the way there for now, eh?”

‘-

“We’re facing an _invasion_.” Jane Foster announced as she closed the door to the small meeting room. Tony choked on the muesli bar he was munching through.

_She could certainly work on her bedside manner_ , he thought ruefully. Then again, she probably was never taught any because she wasn’t _that_ kind of doctor. He managed to cough the bit of stuck food down the right pipe (the one that _didn’t_ lead to his lungs) and noticed a sheepish-looking Jane.

“The effect would’ve been a lot more impressive if you yelled that when I was in the shower. Carry a bat, or something—make sure your shadow looks like the creepy stalker in _Psycho_. Would’ve scared the crap out of me more.”

She blushed “Err, sorry.”

Tony sighed. He supposed that some people are just too serious for their own good. “Alright, what’s this crap about an invasion?”

Jane pulled her cell phone out, fiddled with it quickly and then handed it over. Tony saw what the pins on the map implied immediately.

“Let me guess, these are anomalies?”

“ _Possible_ anomalies, but with all the mess centred on Denver right now, I don’t think the idea of _coincidence_ is going to stack up to any sort of Bayesian inference.” Jane answered.

“No shit, Einstein.”

“But just anomalies aren’t the worst.” Jane ploughed on. “The worst is if a good proportion of them are stable enough to be _portals_.”

Tony desperately wanted it to be _not_ true, to be honest, but he was still a scientist first and foremost. Denying the data wasn’t going to get you anywhere.

“And we know where the majority of the portals that _you’ve_ found before lead to.” His tone was like lead as he finished her explanation. Jane was undeterred and nodded firmly.

“Yes.”

“In the absence of Fury and since Maria hasn’t heard about this yet, I’m going to convene the war council.” He declared.

It was impressive sort of declaration too. Heartfelt and intense, it had never failed to bring out any stealth reporters from the woodwork wherever he was. Camera flashes would usually greet him at this point. Jane Foster was staring at him with confused wide eyes instead of awestruck adoration and Tony repressed an internal sigh. _Man, it’s hard to work with non-fans_. Or non-media people.

“Um, we have a _war council?_ ” Jane asked.

Tony being Tony meant he wasn’t going to let something as little as a lack of audience to deter him. He’d get the support he needed out of Foster sooner or later (never mind that he completely failed to do that with _Clint_ ).

“Of course we do! Let’s save the world, Foster!”

He waited for two seconds before he remembered that even Clint was more used at giving him snappy one-liners in reply than Jane. He repressed the urge to sigh. As Tony walked away, he did his strides just _right_ to make his lab coat billow epically behind him. Jane Foster was still staring at him with a baffled expression than admiration. For good or ill, Tony was too stubborn to give up most of the time.

_We’ll make a snarker out of you yet, just you wait and see…_

‘-

Darcy Lewis was stuck in a staring contest with an empty mug and the mug was winning.

The comfortable hum of conversation around her did not distract her. She held back the urge to check her phone and see just how long until Jarvis’ estimate of Pepper’s meeting was going to hold. She sighed and looked away again when she found her thoughts beginning to drift to the-Jerkass-who-shall-not-be-named and she began dissecting his actions and motivations again. It was messing up with _Lewis Rule #5A – Nobody’s Worth Moping Over_ , but how else was she supposed to make her plans otherwise?

Her StarkPad dinged with a new message.

_Jarvis: I have informed Ms. Potts of your current location, Miss Lewis. She is heading here with company_.

Wait, company?

_Darcy_Regina: What do you mean ‘company’?_

_Jarvis: A SHIELD agent was in the same meeting she went. Your news would be of much relevance to her as well_.

Since Jarvis was too nice to want to inconvenience her, he informed her in the damning interval of exactly thirty seconds before Pepper Potts entered the cafeteria. This left Darcy with just enough time to panic and not enough time to prepare. Behind the CEO was the efficient and black-leather-suited Maria Hill. Her unimpressed gaze once more fell on Darcy and she felt herself straightening up just to stare right back.

Pepper smiled. “It’s good to see you, Darcy. Jarvis said that you have something to tell us?”

Darcy gestured at the open area around them and the SI employees and occasional SHIELD agents casually picking their food and eating. “Only after we move somewhere else.”

“Of course.”

It did not take long before they ended up in a small meeting room on that floor. Darcy had been fiddling with her phone on the way there, and as soon as they entered, she handed it over to Pepper. The picture of the map with pins was on the screen.

“Ah.”

“That’s how the weird weather patterns I’ve been locating are spread. They’re probable anomalies, which means they’re probably _portals_. You see where they’re at, right?” Darcy spoke rapidly. “Lotsa portals all over the place on earth going to who-knows-where.”

Maria stared over Pepper’s shoulder, at least until Pepper raised her hand to give her a better view.

“This is back to Denver,” the agent stated.

“The odds certainly say so. And you’ve heard where the other end of most of the working portals that _we’ve_ checked, right?” Darcy rushed.

Pepper nodded. “ _Jötunheim_.”

The assistant ignored the tightness in the middle of her chest at the word, some part of her brain was still going _nonono, this isn’t happening, not really, not possible_ …

“Yes, that’s the gist of what me and Jane found. Tada! Invasion!” Darcy finished, her grin uncomfortably wide. She had to hold back from making an exaggerated flourish as if she’d just presented something on stage, but the insanity of what they’d uncovered was beginning to catch up on her. _Shit, fucking frost giants swarming over fucking Colorado_.

Agent Hill frowned. “Could you take this _seriously?_ ”

“Hey, if I wasn’t, I’d be taking the day off instead of _running straight here from the lab_ , okay?” Darcy snapped.

“Hanging out at the cafeteria.”

Darcy could feel her metaphorical hackles rising. “Because Jarvis stopped me from crashing whatever _important_ meeting you were having. Now, are we actually going to do something about it, or is it actually against SHIELD regulations if someone smiles more than three times a year?”

Pepper stepped in before the exchange could get any more heated. It was a good thing that she did because Darcy’s hands had started trembling.

“Ladies, _please_. I’m sure we can stay on topic, can’t we? The war council will have to convene now.” She said this with such finality that was impossible to argue with; somehow her friendliness stayed. Yet somewhere in the background Darcy’s subconscious had picked up a warning in it too (where exactly it slipped in behind that open smile, she had no idea). Darcy blinked and realised that she was in the presence of a true master of diplomacy. _She’s totes a real-life Galadriel_.

“Then _Operation Panem Sequestration_ is in effect.” Maria said.

_Panem…where have I heard that?_ Darcy mused. The agent continued.

“I’ll meet you in the Command Room.”

Darcy could hear the capital letters in the name, but she was more curious about the way Maria Hill was mainly addressing Pepper with barely a glance at Darcy. It didn’t bother her. She was well aware that she wasn’t anywhere as important as the freaking _CEO_ of SI so it really wasn’t anything personal for her, but she couldn’t help but wonder _why_. She didn’t even think she’d met the woman before that SHIELD meeting.

_Seriously, who pissed in her cereal?_

The name clicked in Darcy’s mind. _Panem, right…_ Who knew that being a geek and reading up on settings and backgrounds of movies and stuff would serve her well now?

“Wait, you’re going to try isolating Denver from the rest of the country and contain the fighting and whatever there? Make sure the hell stays in the hand basket?” Darcy asked.

Agent Hill turned her laser-focused gaze on her. “How did you figure that out? Your personnel files mention hacking skills. Are you aware that breaking into federal systems for classified information is treason?”

She backed away with both hands raised and snorted. “Sheesh, no need to be that touchy. I don’t need to hack anything to guess that. It’s obvious.”

“You’re not answering the question,” the agent insisted.

“Who named the operation?” Darcy asked back instead. She saw the agent closed her mouth immediately.

“Beyond your clearance.”

That was actually informative; it was someone _way_ up, then. Considering that her clearance was pretty impressive, if it was still something she was pushed away from, she’d bet it was top brass. She guessed the most outrageous thing she could— _might as well go big or go home_.

“Is it actually _Fury?_ ” Darcy saw the momentary twitch of eyebrows and guessed that she might even be _right_. She whistled. “Wow, who would’ve guessed the man had a sense of humour? I’ll be sure to compliment him on that next time I see him.”

That was, if she could actually string two words together and not gibber away through sheer intimidation. The Director was a scary, scary man. The cold look Maria Hill was sending her made Darcy think that she was spot on.

“Ms. Potts, if you will not reprimand her, then I will.”

“Fine. I could see where I’m not wanted, anyway,” Darcy walked to the door before Pepper could stop her. She gave one last sally halfway through the door. “With all due respect, _Ma’am_ , you should take that stick out of your ass some time so you could sit down and read _Hunger Games_.”

“Darcy—”

“I’m fine Pepper. Go ahead and kick any invading frost giant’s ass, I’ll just get back to the lab. We can’t have me hacking the command centre down, can we? Who knows, maybe a n00b like me could change the _font_.” She walked out of the room with her chin high in the air, privately vowing that she’d apologise to Pepper later about it (she could feel the sympathetic look the redhead was giving her on her back).

She didn’t feel anything close to victory. All she could see in her mind’s eye was that endless field of snow, with the cold sharp mountains rising in the distance while Loki bled himself on the ground.

Darcy blinked rapidly, trying to clear her blurring vision. The last thing she needed was for the agent to see her now. And here she thought she’d run out of waterworks after exhausting herself last night.

She _really_ hoped she didn’t have to work with Agent Hill much. Of course knowing her luck, fortune was probably going to screw with her and Maria Hill would end up as the liaison between SHIELD and SI.

 ‘-

The SHIELD agents that Tony started ordering around might be a little confused, but they didn’t hesitate. A few of the higher-ranked ones did raise objections, yet as he pointed out, ‘ _If you want to wait a few more hours for Acting Director Hill to finish her delicate negotiations while the earth was being_ invaded _, be my guest._ ’ That shut them up quickly, especially as he’d given rapid-fire instructions to the relevant divisions in Stark Industries and _his_ people had started moving. Pepper was a far more competent CEO than he was with her meticulous planning and long-term view, but Tony excelled during a crisis.

If there was anything he knew would get the goat of any SHIELD agent, it would be to sit on their hands in an emergency. He received no substantial problems after that with him taking command for the time being.

It was not as if any rising objections against him was wrong—he just didn’t think it was relevant right now. The War Council was certainly more of SHIELD’s rather than Stark Industries—he _did_ pulled SI out of weapons development, after all. Yet with the initial, unexpected biological invasion in Denver, it was inevitable that Stark Industries would be far more involved in it with its cutting edge biomedical research. Jane Foster trailed in his wake, half in a daze at the number of people who had turned around Tony’s orbit before going off on their own and the almost non-stop calls he was making. Now, there were almost always two or three aides around Tony at any given time, hanging to his words.

They were in a part of Stark Towers that Jane had not been to before. Tony had rarely been there before either, and by the layout and the serious-looking people passing and all the combat-ready armour worn casually by more than a handful of people, it felt more like a SHIELD base than Stark Industries. This was not a surprise as it was the part of the Tower that he rented to them.

This was SHIELD’s turf. Not that it would ever stop Tony Stark from going where he wanted.

The steel double doors in front of them had opened quickly and the bustling floor of the command room greeted them. Jane looked as if she was second-guessing her decision to follow Tony by the minute.

Tony rubbed his hands together. “Alright people, let’s get this show on the road.”

‘-

When Darcy entered the lab, the first thing she noticed was the quiet. Even the desktop PCs had put themselves on sleep-mode after Jane and Darcy left the place in a hurry.

There was no Jane, trailing papers as she walked. There were no inexplicable piles of documents that usually came with that too. It was empty save for her.

“Jarvis, could you tell me where Jane is? If she’s in any place public, of course.”

“She is in the Command Room.”

 “Ah, _Command Room_. With Tony, then?”

“Yes she is.” Jarvis answered, and Darcy couldn’t stop a tired smile from surfacing. Of course she would. She was probably needed to explain about her finding, maybe tell them how she did it and all. Jarvis added again. “Acting Director Maria Hill is on her way to join them.”

_Wait, Acting Director? That frigid SHIELD agent that never liked me was the_ Acting Director? She just had to get hated by one of head honchos, didn’t she? “What does that mean? I thought Fury was the Director?”

“She holds the post while he is in Colorado. She had been his right hand even before now.”

Darcy slumped down on the couch while rubbing her head, wondering if she could even get anything done today.

‘-

“You’re giving her too much leeway,” Maria Hill said. Pepper Potts turned to her.

“Who, Darcy? Why not? She’s a nice person.”

“Too ‘ _nice’_.” She replied. It did not sound like a compliment.

“What do you mean, ‘ _too nice_ ’?”

“Were you aware of Loki’s movements after he escaped his cell?”

“We had refused to put a camera in his apartment, if you were wondering.” Pepper said, voice mild. “Privacy reasons.”

“He would deserve it even if you did,” she answered. “But no matter. I’ve seen the recordings from the surveillance cameras in the corridor outside his apartment. On the day of his escaped his cell, he did not sleep in his apartment. Dr. Foster’s assistant invited him into her apartment and he accepted.”

Pepper stilled for a moment as she looked away, thinking. She might be surprised and thinking, but her expression was perfectly even. _He stayed overnight? Ah, a ‘friend’, is it, Darcy?_ It would explain her apparent attachment to him, but it hadn’t affected Darcy’s ability to create a plan for Loki’s extradition at all. If anything, Pepper was slightly impressed at how she’d handled it—if Maria didn’t tell her about any apparent attachment between them, she wouldn’t have guessed at all.

Of course, it _does_ mean that a conversation about it was necessary, but she didn’t think it merited any panic. Not until further information.

“Darcy was always friendly.” She answered instead.

Maria glared at her while Pepper kept her smile. “Friendly, really _?_ I would call that fraternising with the _enemy_.”

“A friendly conversation never hurt anyone.” Her answer was blithe.

“A _conversation_? No, it’s _not_ a _conversation_. All she saw was a pretty face and she was on him like a horny bitch.”

“Language, please, Maria.” Pepper’s smile was brittle now and with more than enough warning in look. Another woman might’ve tried slapping her. “You’re throwing unfounded accusations.”

She snorted. “It wasn’t just accusations. Did you check the camera in the lab?”

The redhead stilled. “That would not be in the public camera access… You have no right to that. _I_ had no right to that.”

“It _was_ a public space.”

“It had _reasonable expectation of privacy_ —”

“Which doesn’t matter the slightest in the face of a supervillain. I can’t believe you’re taking her side on this, on _Loki’s_ side.”

Pepper’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “ _Her_ side, really? I thought I was concerned for the abuse of power and _trust_ that Stark Industries had given. If that is truly what you believed in, how the ends justify the means, then I’m afraid SI will revoke SHIELD’s access to our cameras—”

“You _can’t_ —”

“— _All_ our cameras, even the ones in the hallways, though _of course_ we will give you the courtesy of access to the cameras in your own hallways. If obtaining any of the recordings happened to be relevant to a criminal investigation, SI would gladly cooperate _once you’ve gotten a warrant_.”

Maria Hill took one long breath. “You’re making a mistake.”

Pepper’s smile was a touch more natural. “Thank you for the warning, but I’ve heard that before.”

“Darcy Lewis should have her clearances revoked and be placed under an investigation.”

“For what? I’m not aware that _fraternising with the enemy_ is in the penal code. Leaking state secrets is one, but as we’ve established, you haven’t provided Stark Industries with any proofs” Pepper replied. “And please, _please_ do not use National Security as an excuse with me because we have challenged many such claims on behalf of our employees and many of them have been found wanting. I pity the taxpayers who would shoulder the legal cost.”

Maria took a step forward. Pepper didn’t back down the least.

“She _is_ working for him.”

Pepper’s smile barely changed.

“Unless you have more evidence, I will respectfully ask you to cease your accusations before I lose my temper.” Her voice was firm, but just listening to the tone, one wouldn’t have guessed that she even _had_ a temper. Those who could actually notice the slight frost in it usually had backed away really, really fast.

Their gazes locked for a few more seconds, each as determined as the other. Maria might be a hard-ass SHIELD agent, but Pepper did not get to where she is by being _nice_. She was competent, yes, polite, certainly. Compared to the high-functioning sociopaths one can find among elite business school graduates, Pepper might as well be Mother Teresa.

“We have an invasion to handle.” Maria Hill finally said.

Pepper nodded in agreement, the lines of her shoulders less rigid. “Of course, _priorities_. Let’s agree to disagree, then?”

“I _will_ bring Darcy Lewis to custody and SHIELD needs access to all the cameras.”

“Well, I won’t stand in your way when you have the law on your side—and that is also the reason I’m revoking access. Trust is an expensive thing, Director Hill.”

If her trust in Darcy remained as it was now and Maria came with a warrant, Pepper would probably discreetly allow Jarvis to inform her of that fact even as she stepped aside for SHIELD.

‘-

In the lab, Darcy was sitting on the floor, leaning against the couch with her legs drawn up to her chest. Her eyes were drawn again and again to the map in front of her, along with all the pins she’d stuck into it. There it was, her handiwork.  As proud as she was of it, the map still spoke of nothing pleasant.

“Jarvis?”

“Yes, Miss Lewis?”

“You said that Maria Hill was heading to the Command Room, right? You didn’t mention Pepper going with her.” Darcy said.

“That’s because she isn’t, Miss Lewis.”

“She’s not? Where is she going? Uh, that is, if I _could_ know. If it’s none of my business, just tell me so, Jarvis.”

“She’s heading here.”

“ _Huh_. Didn’t expect that.” She leaned back at the couch to stare at the ceiling. _I wonder who Pepper’s looking for_. The CEO was going to be disappointed if she was looking for Jane, that was all she was saying.

_So,_ Darcy mused. She had an insight to give about Jane’s work. Great. She’d passed on the news, the real heroes are moving and she damn well can’t go with them as a normal human. A battle was going to break out, sooner or later, and everyone at SHIELD would certainly be preparing for it. And what should she do now? Go back straight to paper work? When everyone else is preparing for a life-and-death situation? _What a fucking let down_. Her mind rebelled at the very idea and her _really delusional body_ was still high on adrenaline and believed it could take down a supervillain or two on its own. _Ha. Like I had a chance_.

So she sat down and tried not to think about anything in particular for the moment, eyes drifting over the coloured pins spreading from a central area like marks on a wall after a hail of bullets.

That was one of the photographs she’d seen in Tory’s PC. Not that he’d ever thought of sending it over to her, he preferred not to worry her or their mother, but he did have one curious sister and he was leaving his computer on and the folder _open_. What was she to do? Ignore it? _Nah_.

Of course she snooped around a bit.

Darcy pretended she wasn’t thinking of the odds that someone was going to split Loki in two, or that he was going to fry some poor sob with magic. If he got involved in _yet_ another invasion, it would be _completely_ his own fault if he got himself stabbed. Yes, that was it. He was the one asking for trouble in the first place. How much of an idiot could he be, after she finally got him to read _The Prince_ too!

Darcy grumbled and set off for the pantry to make _something_ before her thoughts wandered to Loki once more. She’d feel better once she was productive again.

‘-

When the lab doors opened to admit Pepper into the lab, Darcy was already at the kitchen. “Pepper, what would you like to drink?”

The redhead blinked once before replying smoothly. If she had been surprised that Darcy had expected her presence, she was good at adapting.

“What are you having, Darcy?”

Somewhere between the clinks of mugs on countertop, the brunette replied. “I’m in the mood for some chamomile tea. We have hot chocolate and coffee as well and I could make them in my sleep. What do you want?”

“Chamomile tea sounds interesting for now.”

“Sure about that?”

“Yes, I’m quite sure.”

“Okay. Be right there. Make yourself comfortable!” From the sounds, it seemed that Darcy was steeping the tea and systematically rummaging the cupboards for crackers and biscuits.

“You really don’t need to bother,” Pepper said.

“Oh, but I do. I’ve got nothing else to do today and being idle _sucks_.” Darcy’s answer was as honest as it was friendly. She set the cups on the table, along with a teapot. Pepper saw the chipped edges of the set, but for some reason it made the set look homelier than it would have otherwise.

The chipped edge was also there in Darcy’s smile.

“Really?” Pepper asked.

“We just delivered the news we don’t really want to be true. And after that I have to act _normal_? Alone? Nah, I can’t do that. My brain’s too buzzed to do that.”

She could see the other possibilities that were layered over Darcy’s sentences—possibilities she herself had only begun to see based on what Maria was accusing the assistant of. Even with that in mind, traces of her weightier concerns were not immediately obvious; there were no guarantees that she would’ve noticed it if she wasn’t looking.

“To be too close to the source of the crisis is not always a useful thing,” Pepper said.

She gathered her words with the same care a flower arranger would choose a particular blossom. The chamomile scent of the tea was gentle and soothing—it was clear that Darcy had much practise in making the brew, even if only at an amateur level and only to her personal liking.

“Oh, I _know_. That’s why I’m giving up at getting anything done for now.” Darcy said.

“Especially when the people you care about are stuck in them.” Pepper said, lighter than a sprig of unbloomed plum. Darcy did not seem to notice anything unusual about her words.

“Yeah, I’m thinking about Bruce and the rest of the Avengers over there. Now that I have a better idea of what they’re facing, it’s actually worse.”

There it was again, the aborted wince. It was only a slight flex of her jaw muscles.

“Of course,” Pepper nodded. “Yet just because we may be fighting frost giants does not mean that the other side is pure and irredeemably evil. When kings send out their call to arms, his retainers have no other choice but to obey.”

If they were sane, that is.

“Unless he wants the king to go ‘off with his head!’” Darcy stated.

“Yes, going against his liege lord is treason, but maybe he was having an attack of heroism?”

The brunette was sceptical. “Heroically stupid?”

Pepper chuckled. “Maybe.”

“Even if we were to understand the rank-and-file, there is _no excuse_ for kings and emperors, are there? They’re the fucking _idiots_ with delusions of grandeur who’re forcing other people to pay it with their lives. What pathetic excuse do they have?” There was unexpected vehemence in her words and her eyes were still lit with the steady burn of anger that told of reasons more righteous than impetuous.

Darcy sat upright with confidence, certain in her answer and every line of her body challenging anyone to ask her _why_. Such visibility was not the province of those engaged in subterfuge. It was too risky; it called too much attention.

Pepper closed her eyes as she enjoyed the tea.

“You have no sympathy for them, then?” Pepper asked.

The bitter laugh that followed was uncharacteristically Darcy that Pepper had to look up. No, the research assistant was still there, unaccountably sombre. “ _With great power comes great responsibility_. Other people would’ve given their left arm to be able to hold such position, to be able to change things. Then some fuckers get all the luck and none of the brains, all the power and money in the world, and suddenly other people’s lives are _cheap_.”

Pepper’s voice was softer when she spoke again, more sympathetic.

“Life is not fair.” She replied.

“I _know_. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck, or that I don’t want to punch the shit-for-brains who started this. Who cares if I break my hand? I _will_ punch him in the throat if I see him.”

Despite herself, Pepper smiled at that. _I don’t think you’re right, Maria. I don’t think you know her at all_. She would probably still investigate further, but Pepper had a feeling that she would not change her current opinion on Darcy Lewis.

‘-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a different fandom note, Denver is really the closest city in the US that fits the description of Panem – or so the various discussions in fan forums went. Try matching other cities to the descriptions, I dare you; none fit as well. As I have the impression that most of my readers mostly follow the MCU instead of the comic verse, I’d try to give a bit of background info on that’s not found in the movies.  
>    
>    
> 
> 
> Glossary Much Random and Weird:
> 
> **_Dr. Doom_ :** Technically an archenemy of the Fantastic Four. A genius inventor and a sorcerer, he’s also the leader of the fictional nation of Latveria. He’s usually depicted as wearing a mask. The way the micronation is set up, I’m estimating that their GDP consists mostly of tourism and any industry Dr. Doom might be inclined to set up there (he’s practically the dictator there). You can guess what one of those industries is from his conference call with Pepper and Maria.
> 
> **_Hotspot volcano_ :** (geology) a volcano that is fed by a region of the earth’s mantle below it that is unusually hotter compared to other regions of the mantle around that. There are several theories as to why the hotspot exists as it is.
> 
> The first theory is that there is a hot mantle plume that rises up from deep below the earth’s mantle. Others say that a hotspot volcano isn’t caused by the existence of an _actual_ hotspot, but only because particular lithospheric condition there (that means local _weirdness/weak_ spot of the earth’s crust) of the volcano’s neighbourhood allowed magma to seep up at that point, as opposed to anywhere else in the region. A real-life example? The Hawaiian island chain.
> 
> **_Latveria_ :** A fictional isolated country somehow miraculously located within the Carpathian mountain range. Since it borders Hungary, I thought it would make complete sense that it used to be part of the Austro-Hungarian empire, hence the imperial touches in the palace decorations.  
>  \- Capital: _Doomstadt._  
>  \- Noteworthy geographic features: Mt. _Doomberg._  
>  No, this isn’t a feature that is explicitly stated to exist in the comics. I wrote it as a hotspot volcano because it’s the most probable reason as to why a volcano exists not as a part of a volcanic range and not anywhere near the meeting place of two tectonic plates (the Carpathian is in the middle of the Eurasian plate, for one, not at its edges).
> 
> " _...the high-functioning sociopaths one can find among elite business school graduates..._ " far be it from me to claim that the C-suites are filled with sociopaths, there _are_ studies that show that the population of sociopaths in management is a bit higher than in general population (though still a far cry from their proportion in the prison population). A good place to start is [Victor Lipman's article on Forbes](http://www.forbes.com/sites/victorlipman/2013/04/25/the-disturbing-link-between-psychopathy-and-leadership/#649546ce2740).  
>    
>    
> 


	30. XXX. Let Loose the Hounds of War, Part 1 (Opening Moves)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Loki and Helblindi are troubleshooting. The Command Room watches Denver. Jane is still getting sucked behind Tony’s wave. Loki and Helblindi are stumped. Some weeks ago, Byleistr converses with a witch. He ends up in her cave due to his interest in her chest. Thor clarifies some things about Midgard to people._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of my longer chapters, folks, because epic revelations abound.

### XXX. Let Loose the Hounds of War, Part 1 (Opening Moves)

The weather was refreshingly brisk today in a small, gentle vale in Jötunheim and the army camp had begun to form nearer to the forest’s edge.

By frost giant standards, nice weather meant that blood doesn’t freeze immediately after it trickled to the ground and the wind wasn’t trying to shear the skin off your face. To be precise, the wind wouldn’t shear the skin off _their_ face. Any sane humans would still have their face covered under these conditions. Magicians, especially those with a fine control over their personal shield, have the upper hand in this case. Tweak the temperature and insulation and a frost bite is not a concern. For magicians with frost giant blood, the weather was _pleasant_ , especially since the sun could be felt a little from behind the thin clouds.

Loki wasn’t wearing anything heavier than his casual leather armour. One of his feet was in a small, barely running brook while the other was outside it. A chalice was in his hands; it was partially filled with blood, still as red as the hour it flowed from the artery. Helblindi stood bare-chested not far from him with staff casually held.

“So you did have it,” he observed. Loki had to hold back from rolling his eyes.

“Would I _be_ here if I didn’t? It would’ve been a complete waste of time otherwise.”

The shaman watched him calmly. “You were escaping from imprisonment and you were in dire need of help.”

Loki wasn’t that stupid to put himself in a situation where he’d owe anyone his life, much less Helblindi. Well he _did_ owe him, a bit, but with the chalice at his service the debt was non-existent. It was worth far more than one life, not even that of a prince and a magician of the first circle. Once his plan worked, it would be Helblindi who would have to write up his debt to Loki in his ledger and it would not be small.

“I think it would be best if you were to disown your brother sooner rather than later,” Loki observed. “It is stunting your mind. Your expectations of people’s intelligence are falling to goblin levels—oh, I’m _sorry_ , that would actually be offensive to goblins.”

As usual, most people would find it hard to tell the difference between when he was serious and when he was joking.

Helblindi laughed. “Yes, I pity the goblins indeed. Play _hnefatafl_ with a witless man too often and you dull your own edge too.”

“What, he could actually _play?_ ” Loki said with mock surprise. Like chess, the rules of the board game might’ve been straightforward, but the strategy wasn’t. The frost giant grinned.

“Of course he does. The smarter of his warlords know just when to slip in their play and when to give the impression of resistance, all to make his eventual victory seem more real.”

Loki was tipping the cup this way and that, and more than once he let it hang from upside down from his hand. The blood stirred but stayed stubbornly uncommunicative with gravity.

“Easiest way to rise in the ranks.” Loki commented, at which Helblindi only replied with a sardonic grin.

There was no one else around them. Oh, there were frost giants, men under Helblindi’s command that were setting things up and visibly more than them were the camp followers. Smoke from open fires rose up in the air, though not as much as it would’ve been if the camp was a human one or an Asgardian one. The frost giants do cook their food to improve the taste, as especially muscular prey such as the winterbear were as tough as old boots to eat. Yet it was still nowhere as well-cooked as many city people preferred. Liver, for example, was a delicacy best enjoyed raw, preferably right after you’ve cut the guts open. It was sweeter that way. Some frost giants don’t even bother waiting for the creature’s dying throes to stop before doing it.

None of the frost giants were stupid enough to get anywhere close to where two mages might be planning a ritual.

“Strange, I did not think the chalice came with its own supply of blood,” Helblindi commented. Loki didn’t beat around the bush for he saw no reason for it.

“It didn’t. It was mine.”

The shaman took a step closer. “What convenience that you needed to escape using it. Filled, not a person could use it but they who’d given blood—not until it’s used up.”

Loki didn’t hide his small smirk. He was the only that can orchestrate some major spells with the cup right now. Now Helblindi can’t get him out of the picture and use it on his own. Not that he thought the frost giant would try, but it never hurts to be careful.

“Unfortunate, yes, but I’d rather not be dead, thank you. It was the only way to get out before Byleistr’s campaign started. I _was_ cutting my arrival rather close, wasn’t I?”

Not quite true. He supposed there _were_ some minor trinkets he might be able to weld together into something that can burrow a hole into reality and find its way into a neighbouring one. That was another method of escaping a ward without breaking it, as most wardcrafters aren’t aware of the necessity of extending their wards beyond the three dimensions. One just has to know where to end up with to avoid ending up in the wrong dimension. Or anywhere near hungry predators, or anywhere so alien that it was not conducive to continued living as well as a smattering of other risks.

To be truthful, none of the ways out were easy.

“That is a poor excuse, Liesmith. Are there no animals to sacrifice? No way to enter their stables and cut their horses or bears? Their pigs and cattle?” The frost giant asked. “Finding the kitchen is not impossible either, yes? And all it takes after that is to locate the butchery.”

Loki _did_ roll his eyes. “Have you _been_ to Midgard, All-Blind? I wouldn’t be surprised if they’d stopped slaughtering their cattle in their cities and just have it sent dead. Not even the largest manors slaughter their own livestock, even if they had the space for it and _could_. Barely anything is fresh there. Most of their food seems to come from miles and miles away.”

Helblindi’s horrified look was plain to see. Loki held back the urge to laugh.

“But how would the meat even _taste_?”

“It doesn’t spoil, if that’s what you’re worried about. Most of the time, they’re frozen, if not cured.” Loki said, but the frost giant was unconvinced. He relented.

“Well, they’re not the most delicious, but that is a matter of the herd animals living all their miserable lives in cages and getting the blandest foods for it. One could taste the results of that in their flesh.” He couldn’t even hide his own wince as he said that.

“Poor wretched bastards.”

He snorted. “They wouldn’t even notice. That’s all the meat they knew since they were born.”

“I was talking about their livestock.”

Loki chuckled. “Yes, I suppose there is that.”

There was a hole that had already been dug on the ground. If one had a bird’s eye view of the gentle-sloping vale, it would be easy to see that Loki stood around its centre. If someone could see under the snow, the runes radiating out from Loki’s position would be visible, as would the three nested circles supporting them and the geometric patterns interwoven into it. With every other turn of the chalice in his hand, Loki channelled a little of his magic into it, and in every turn after that he pushed the power out of the artefact. He could feel it flow through him into the ground, trickling into the lines and letters he had carved and he checked the evenness of the wave front as it propagated outwards from him. With his blood in it, the chalice was a far finer focus for his magic than anything he could come up with now.

 _It reached the southwest much slower than anywhere else_ , he thought, _still needs to be fixed_.

From the occasional taps to the ground with his staff, Helblindi sensed it too.

“It’s slightly egg-shaped with the point to the southwest. It will require an erase and a rewrite,” he said. “Next after that are the misshapen parts in the eastern and northern parts; similar treatment but smaller in area. North-northwest only needs minor correction; I suspect we would need to lock them up tighter—it would not surprise me if the camp’s temporary abattoir is over there. The spell circle is teething at the blasted pool of blood.”

That Helblindi could Sense was an understatement. Most magic wielders would see a picture of varying blurriness, depending on skill. With an array such as the circle available, Helblindi could feel every groove on the ground as if he was touching the entire surface of the circle with his hands _right now_. This was an area the size of a village. The Asgardian cursed vehemently as he channelled with a larger flow of magic and noticed all the other spots that he’d missed before.

“This is going to take longer than I thought.”

“Really? I had thought this was already faster than I planned,” Helblindi said casually. “I left significant ease in this part of the plan for seven to nine setbacks and this is only our fourth. Life disappoints you less if you always plan for the worst.”

“And I keep telling you to ignore your brother already before you’re too habituated. It’s not as if he remembered his runt of a brother that often, did he?” Loki snapped and walked ahead.

Helblindi took no offence at all and laughed before following Loki.

“Too true, Asgardian worm. Too true. Not that different than your own brother, is he?”

Loki stalked ahead quickly while Helblindi ambled at a far more pleasant pace, undisturbed by his abruptness. The distance between them grew until Loki reached the offending spot in the southwest. He was already crouching down over it with a chisel out when the frost giant arrived. Helblindi took a small spade from his belt and walked over to a different spot. Magical tools might help to a degree but no competent mage was going to achieve anything without getting their hands dirty.

“We still need to get the tunnels started.” Loki stated.

Even when he was facing the other way, Loki had no doubt that the warlock’s attention was still on him. The frost giant was oddly silent.

“Is your tongue frostbitten now?” Loki jibed.

Helblindi snorted. “Hardly. I was merely wondering how to break your dreams into little pieces.”

Loki’s answering grin bared more fangs than usual. “Oh, really? _Do_ tell.”

“What do you think you can get if you helped us with the tunnels, Liesmith?” His voice was not only calm, it was frigid. “What we have is what you can see. Whatever you do beyond this we have no hidden treasure for you and you should not expect it. We are very capable of finishing the tunnels without you.”

Loki stretched his shoulder and neck while looking as if he was barely thinking before he returned to his work. It wasn’t as if creating and then maintaining tunnels was going to be a short task, nor was it an easy one. Why did he offer to help with the tunnels? _For what?_

In all honesty he could simply finish working the layered circles in the small valley and the favour he owed Helblindi was done. Perhaps he would lend the chalice to Helblindi and gain small favours later—it wasn’t as if anyone could steal the artefact from him now, not when it was his blood that activated it, settling inside mingled with the power from a genius loci. Yet why assist with the tunnels?

 _Never raise someone else to power and rely on their gratitude to keep them indebted to you_ , Darcy had pointed out that line in a favourite book to him. Yet wasn’t that what he was doing?

He smirked. _No, no it wasn’t_.

But all those talks with Darcy had given him an idea all the same; it reminded him of how he’d done things when he was younger. He could use being less reckless than he’d been in his youth, but he needed to remember that there was never any gain to be had without any stakes. He had avoided anything that involved people too much after his disastrous campaign to Midgard in the desert—he did not consider the second campaign in New York for reasons obvious and not.

Perhaps this avoidance was too hasty, borne out of ~~fear~~ distaste than considered deliberation.

The memories he had of that time was unpleasantly tinged with an eerie blue and tasting of foreign hysteria (not his, absolutely _not his not-his-nothisnothis_ ) always made him want to empty his stomach. As if he could rid himself of it that way, never mind that he knew it was impossible. It coated him completely, from the inside and outside.

(The experience was nothing. He was stronger than that. It doesn’t matter anymore. _It doesn’t_ ).

He held back, pushing all the sight and smells with not a little effort as he took a long deep breath. Helblindi watched him without a word.

“I do not wish for your treasures,” Loki said far more casually than was his wont.

“And I suppose you’re a paragon of generosity?” There was enough acid in his voice to etch steel. Loki laughed.

“I make no such claims. I am certainly not generous to the point of poverty.” Loki stated without a care.

“Yet your offer stands.”

He nodded, “yet my offer stands.” he walked away as he corrected the line further and said nothing else as he buckled down to work. Helblindi drew out a long, vexed sigh not far from him, spade in hand.

“One day, someone will take that tongue out and cut it for a trophy, Liesmith.”

“That’s why I need to make as much use of it as possible while I can,” was his glib reply.

“What do you wish for it?” Helblindi asked.

“What?” Loki asked back.

“Your _assistance_.” Helblindi’s words came out in half growls now. It wasn’t that he was angry—no one could misunderstand an angry frost giant as it was as subtle as a fist to the face. The harsh tones were just how his race was when emotions began to run high, whether it was happiness or something else. “There is something you wish for it—what is it?”

He mulled over it for a while before giving the answer.

“That Jötunheim would not be something easily scattered and brushed aside and is closer to a kingdom than the collection of tribes it is right now.” Loki said.

Helblindi frowned. “That would be to our benefit and not yours.”

Loki’s answer was too smooth and flippant. “Well, it’s a good thing it’s to your benefit, then, isn’t it? I don’t even have to encourage you further and you would provide me with what I prefer as well.”

Most other frost giants would gladly start pummelling him at this point. Helblindi has more years under his belt, was an experienced sorcerer and had known the God of Mischief for years. Thus, he simply rolled his eyes.

“If you were to undermine the tunnels, I will keep you alive until I have ripped every entrails out of your stomach. Even then I might think twice about granting you death.”

“Oh, I am very aware of that.”

Loki nodded with what would seem to be uncommon understanding from someone threatened with disembowelment.

“And I will find out the exact reason of your apparent generosity.” He pointed out. Even with the rough tumble of his voice, one would notice that it was not rushed or harried at all when one is already used to it.

“Perhaps I am merely _very_ bored.” Loki replied smoothly. He didn’t imagine the frustrated growl that came out of Helblindi’s throat.

Loki’s grin was annoyingly wide. “I wish you good luck. It’s clear that you’d need it.”

The frost giant almost rumbled again before he stood up and decided that the other side needed the help of his spade more than the other magician did. Loki laughed loudly on purpose, and worked with good cheer, no matter how annoying he found the menial work was. It was worth getting on Helblindi’s nerves.

‘-

Hours later, they met up again at the camp’s north-northwest after splitting up to handle the other issues separately. All the other frost giants took wide circling paths around them. Their clothes were none too pristine and even Loki had clods of dirt up to his elbows. There was even a smear above his left eyebrow. Neither magician seemed too cheerful.

 “You’ve managed to get all the camp followers to stay here?” Loki asked. “While the main camp is on the farther plains?”

“They will grumble and complain, but a week is not a problem. They did wonder about the tribe banners they’re setting up now because we’ve never bothered before.”

“They’re not paid to wonder,” Loki muttered.

“Certainly, they’re not. With the extra mead they get, they’re not wondering anymore. Some are also asking whether they can get more mead by not-wondering harder. One does his best to convince me that this is possible and that his family has an inestimable tradition in that skill.”

Helblindi grinned, unaffected by the groan coming out from Loki.

“That would be Nobby Nobbson, I presume?”

“Considering that his family has conveniently managed to stay alive until now is proof they managed not to offend my ancestors through the ages. I say he has a point.”

“Ah, the sort of family that manages to do nothing in particular and nothing remarkable.”

“Still that _is_ a survival trait,” Helblindi said idly. “Maybe more mead is not such a bad idea.”

“And more mead will kill what little wit is left in their heads and we’re left with a pack of drooling idiots. _Excellent_. Now we have more than enough fools to spare, with a new drunken variety!” Loki’s voice was somewhere between cheerful and bloodthirsty while his sharp smile didn’t help.

“I thought Kvasir’s mead brought wisdom?” By his grin Helblindi wasn’t even actually asking.

“Kvasir would spit in their eye for the watered down piss they have.”

“If too many of them are rowdy in the night, we can always play idiot bowling. We will make sure they regret it more than a bit in the morning.” He gestured about making a snowball with his hand—or in this context, a _giant_ snowball. Loki let out a bark of laughter at that. “After that. They will learn to pace themselves better.”

“Ah, I’ve read about this. I believe we are teaching them with what humans call _experiential learning_.”

‘-

“This is the best view we have?” Tony Stark asked with a frown.

The guy he was looming over gave a helpless shrug. On the screens the army of blue had quickly swarmed out from the forest in a veritable flood, and the similarities was reinforced by the bird’s eye view. From the camera drone’s distance, the individual frost giants blend together into one imposing mass.

“If we get any closer the drones begin to get technical problems. Things start shorting out and we’ve lost two that tried getting too close.”

Maria Hill was much more concerned about the bigger picture in the centre of the command room, but Tony was free to come and go and drop in anywhere he liked—which was what he preferred. “Exactly what errors are we talking about?”

The man’s helpful colleague had printed all that out before he finished his request. She handed it to him and he read through the pages quickly. “Thanks. Mmmmhmmm. Ah, I see. Signal interference, not surprising. Hmmmm. Circuits overloaded with current but no signs of burns except for the…oh, _magic_. Dammit.”

“Magic?” Jane asked. She was feeling more than a little awkward as she didn’t know where she was supposed to be in this place and ended up following Tony. He pulled his attention away from the printout.

“Yeah, probably magic. I’m getting _real familiar_ with the burnout signs from magic.” Said familiarity did not seem to make Tony any happier, only more pissed off.

“Isn’t Dr. Strange was in Denver? He could do something about it, couldn’t he?”

“He was in Colorado, underneath the mountains with something he says needs securing and the military don’t mind safeguarding it—don’t ask, I have _no_ idea. Bastard’s being annoyingly tight-lipped about it.” Tony complained.

“And he can’t help?”

He sighed. “No, not for a while. We’ll just have to keep at altitudes where the effect isn’t as bad—there’s always an effective radius for this shit. Has anyone noted the effective altitude? Oh, they have? Great. I’m sure you’d all pass that on to everyone else. Managed to get any flyboys in?”

“There’s a size limit to any craft that passes, Mr. Stark.” Another staff answered. “Drones are alright, but anything larger than a one-man craft and the engines start behaving badly.”

“And the instruments are out of whack, I bet.” Tony said darkly.

The staff member gave a grudging nod. “Yes, we can’t really rely on them. The mist isn’t helping either.”

“So we’ve got nothing from NORAD?”

He said this as easily as someone would ask another to pass a pen. The young man in front of him paled instead, and an uneasy hush fell on the small circle of staff around them as well. Glances were traded, Tony was still far too quiet for her comfort that Jane couldn’t help but speak up, regardless of how ill at ease she felt among the SHIELD agents.

“Tony? What’s up? What’s NORAD?”

“North American Aerospace Defense Command.” Tony answered. “One of the places where the US military pool and coordinate data from our worldwide sensors.”

The junior agent took a deep breath before he spoke up again. Small beads of sweat dotted his forehead. “NORAD lost contact with their satellites, Sir. They say there are electromagnetic interference worse than what we’ve come to expect in the advent of solar storms. Also, the extreme weather even we’re having does not help.”

“How extreme?”

The staff member looked around quickly, desperate for back up. A blonde agent spoke up from her seat.

“We have a supercell, Sir, one that generates rare thundersnow. It covers the whole state and more.”

Tony threw the paper down and raised both of his hands up in frustration.

“ _Why_ are we only hearing this _now_?”

Everyone looked down and away; Jane could see embarrassment in their gestures, shame that they weren’t more prepared even when Tony wasn’t even blaming anyone at this point, just venting stress. The blonde staff was tense, even if her professionalism stopped it from leaking into her voice when she looked up again. “Because the NOAA was forced to conclude this from just their ground data, Sir. They can’t access their satellites either.”

The cold feeling of realisation settled in Jane’s bones.

She wasn’t a meteorologist, yes, but she’d known her share and had worked with more than a few. As NOAA was the country’s eyes and ears weather-wise, to realise that there could suddenly be a rise in anomalies in the west coast and she nor her colleagues would have _any_ idea of their existence until it was too late was frightening.

“Whaddya know, ladies and gents. They’ve made a literal fog of war.” Tony murmured.

From the camera on a drone, the ground was visible on the screen. The picture wasn’t steady—Jane figured it was because of the harsh wind it had to fly against. Even with the snow blurring the details and a jittery flight path, in parts where the mist thinned the surging wave of blue giants wasn’t exactly easy to miss. Otherwise, it was hard to discern what exactly was underneath it. It was uncomfortably like any ordinary mist; thick enough to be a soup, for one, and just the sight of it chilled any idea of peace.

‘-

Weeks before Loki was captured by the Avengers (and later escaped), a month or more before all hell broke loose in Stark Tower as an invasion force to earth was detected, the frost giants were also busy with their preparation. They had been amassing for some time now.

It was one of the things that movies usually miss; war does not only consist of the great furore in the battlefields, or the brilliance of tactical planning and execution. The war machine is also a great lumbering beast that crawls across the lands at its own pace, sucking up manpower and resources from one end and regurgitating them at the other. People needed to be moved. Supplies needed to be secured and delivered. A great deal of humdrum meetings needed to be held to settle these issues.

This was why Byleistr was marching back and forth in a great cavern he had secured as his own. He glanced only occasionally at the pile of messages that were piling haphazardly at one wooden bench, with great grunts of annoyance. He did not have a table. He was of the opinion that any replies that needed a table to be written to the finish was a reply that was too long. Better to just give the time to a summons or meeting and to finish whatever problem needed to be talked out then and there.

The increasing number of people who were trying to talk to him right now, though, was almost making him regret shouting at Helblindi and arguing with him. It had ended with his brother separating himself from the current host in a huff, stating that he can still make himself useful _somewhere else_.

Of course, the key word here being that he _almost_ regretted it. Byleistr still didn’t.

Helblindi might be a useful enough to get sent to meetings in his place, but the runt needed to _get_ the lesson that he could not second-guess his leader. When there was a chance that someone else could see their arguments, that lesson applied even harder, preferably through a whip. Byleistr was of the opinion that he was giving Helblindi much leeway already, especially since he was too busy to flog the runt personally. It wouldn’t do to let any lowly common giants think that they can ever raise their hand against royalty, not even if he was blind and useless.

The winterbear pelt that had been artfully stitched together slid to the side, revealing the corridor that connected this cave to another that served as its foyer. Framed by the archway was the witch he had been thinking about for a while. Like the most magical of their race, she was smaller than the average frost giant. This did not detract from her beauty at all, her fierce brows and haughty cheekbones still arresting.

“Altgjöf,” Byleistr rumbled. “You are _slow_.”

She frowned, even if her displeasure did not enter into her voice. “The elders insist that I show them that my treasure is truly what I said it is. If you would give me leave to ignore them, I would do so in a heartbeat.”

He snorted. “If I do that, then they would spare no time to get a young warrior or witch, still itching to prove themselves, to challenge you. There will be no way to turn them down without being a coward.”

“It is as I’ve said, _I would do so in a heartbeat_.” The smile that she gave him this time was sharp and all teeth. “Unless you would ask me to spare them from a beating.”

Byleistr’s answering grin was as savage. “I will not. If they think they can take you, let that defeat be a lesson to learn from.” His expression grew more pensive as he thought over it a little longer.

“Unfortunately, there will be too many complaints that way. Inconvenient. Now that you’re here, we can ignore them for as long as is necessary.”

“Truly?” Altgjöf eyed the pile of papers on his bench. Byleistr waved it away with impatience as he strode forward and out of his dwelling. The witch easily kept up with him even when she didn’t reach his shoulders.

“Yes, truly. I will see the chest myself and unleash it upon Midgard. Victory is assuredly ours.”

Altgjöf’s expression showed barely any surprise even if her question may imply that.

“Midgard? We are not going for Asgard?”

“They will be only too prepared. It is best to be unexpected in our attacks and find a different target. Besides, with Asgard’s so-called protection, they cannot just stand and do nothing, can they?”

“And of the rest of Jötunheim, what of it?” Altgjöf asked.

“They can make their choice once they saw the force we have brought to bear.” He answered easily. It was easy to guess what he would gift the wrong answer with. “Will they be foolish enough to go against the wishes of the King of Jötnar and our artefact?”

It was with these casual talk about planned invasion and destruction that Byleistr was planning on loosing over earth that the two of them made their way out of his grand caves. Neither paid attention to the plush furs laid out in front of what large fireplace was in his sitting room or to the sturdy and well-carved furniture of a distinctly Jötunheim dark wood.

Out of the cave, the camp of the Jötnar was easily seen. Right now, they were occupying the cave system on the walls of a cliff.

As Byleistr walked down the steep impromptu steps between caves, any lowly frost giants that happened to be chatting casually made themselves scarce the moment they saw who it was that was marching their way. Only those who were braver than most or self-assured in their position did not alter whatever it was that they were doing. Yet even _they_ certainly still greeted Byleistr with a respectful bow when he passed. They gave a more uncertain one to the witch beside him.

 This did not bother Altgjöf the least, as she occasionally returned their respects with an unnerving smile.

The discomfort of most frost giants in her presence was not unexpected. After all, the witch was a new addition to their horde. She had approached Byleistr on her own will, fetishes and charms dangling from her hair and wrists and every inch the hermit witch when she came. She demanded that she be given an opportunity to strike at Odinn as well and avenge the wrongs she had also suffered. Helblindi had barely given her a glance and flat out told his brother that she was just another mountain witch, but something of the fire in her eyes struck Byleistr’s curiosity as she argued back against Helblindi.

 _“You are not afraid that I can strike down the Allfather, are you?” The strange witch had raised her voice to be heard above the noise of the gathering. The uneasy murmur of other frost giants unsettled by her sudden presence could not be missed. “Are you, Great King Byleistr,_ afraid _that my measly hit will steal your victory from you?”_

_“Impossible,” Byleistr growled. His voice rang loud in the hall._

_To Byleistr’s left, the far shorter Helblindi shook his head, staff held firmly in his hand. “She is but another mountain witch with an axe to grind, brother. Too many hate the Asgardians. If you listen to each and every one of them, we will still be here by next year.”_

_“Accuse me clearly instead of whispering your poison to the king’s ears, Tviblindi!” The witch shouted from the other end of the dais._

_Helblindi stepped forward and accepted the challenge without a doubt._

_“Return to your mountain, hermit! You do not have anything we need.”_

_“Oh, is that what you think? Have not our people a loss so great that we’ve not recovered from?”_

_The silence that fell was one of numb shock. It did not last long before every clan head, every strongman raised their voice and demanded the strange witch to clarify what she meant. Others yell at her to stop spilling lies, and some agree that they can understand her desperate dreams, but not the delusion she was dallying with._

_Above all that racket, the witch_ cackled _._

_“SILENCE!”_

_Byleistr’s voice struck the hall like thunder, and those who did not cease their chatter did so because they were stunned by the force of his roar._

_“Speak of what you have, woman.” Helblindi’s voice was heard throughout the hall. “Let us not play games anymore for an important concern of our people.”_

_“If that is how you wish it.” She nodded with satisfaction. With a yank of her hand, the chain she was holding rattled, and from behind her stumbled forth a chest. She patted its surface with satisfaction._

_“Behold, the Casket of Ancient Winters.”_

_Its physical resemblance to the artefact of the Jötnar was uncanny._

_The hall exploded in furor and pandemonium reigned. Many frost giants are only too cynical to believe that such a thing was possible. And yet even more of them was desperate for it to be true. In one fell swoop, the strange witch that had reached the palace of king of the Jötnar had become someone they couldn’t ignore._

_Byleistr’s gaze was fixed on the woman._

_Helblindi’s voice was rumbling warning low in his chest, one that caused lesser frost giants to back away from him._

_“That_ cannot _be the Chest—the Asgardians have placed it in the heart of their Golden Hall, and they will not loosen their guard until the end of time. Cease your deception, witch!”_

_She did not waver, nor did she look intimidated at some of the weapons that have begun to be pointed her way. She ignored the demands made by tribesmen and tribeswoman, by warriors eager for any sort of edge in the coming war. Her eyes were only in the direction of the throne and the two brothers on the dais._

_Her smile did not lessen. “Oh, but it_ is _, my weak warlock. It truly is_.”

Helblindi accused her of being prepared to do anything for vengeance, including making claims she cannot back. Altgjöf retaliated by saying that he only disliked her because he wanted to be the sole magic user trusted by the King of Jötunheim, because it wasn’t as if he was good at being anything else, was it?

Byleistr had stepped in before even more words were exchanged, particularly words that would end up splitting the earth or cracking the roof. He offered her his hospitality and a place in his horde and asked for a time to determine the strength of her claims. If she had lied, he will kill her himself.

She accepted his terms, and stated that she could not trust anyone with the Casket except herself and the king, and that anyone who thinks they can kill her are welcome to try.

That angered the elders and the mages, and Byleistr soon had a growing headache as the arguments began again.

Byleistr and Altgjöf had climbed down some distance away from his cavern and up another narrow pathway to hers. Even if he could not see what she had planted to secure her temporary dwelling, he could feel the shift in the air as he passed the boundary she’d drawn. Together, they walked into the gaping maw of the cliff.

“Have you opened it?” He asked.

She scoffed. “Of course not. Anyone else can complain and threaten me, or bribe and plead, but none have the right to see it first before the king.”

He rumbled his approval. It did not affect her much either way. At the end of her sparse room, the glow of the casket was familiar. She approached it as Byleistr waited. Sure enough, it was not only the chains that she protected it with, but also a multitude of traps and spells. Woe be unto the envious and curious of the giants, for it was almost impossible to try opening the casket without triggering any of her Altgjöf's security measures.

“Shall I open it here?” She asked, unconcerned for the mess it would make of her room if she did so. He could appreciate a woman of her mettle.

“Yes. Now.” He ordered.

Her hand lifted the lid, and the wind of an endless winter roared around them, throwing a travelling bag around as well as the only rug in the room. He dodged both with ease, but not the hailstones that came out next. A particularly large one cracked apart on his skull.

With the storm building around him, hail battering against him and ice growing up his legs, Byleistr _laughed_.

‘-

After hours of trying, Loki had to admit that neither he nor Helblindi had a good idea of what success would look like in their case. Oh, he knew what he was trying to achieve, he just wasn’t sure if he could read the signs in that direction, as in, _am I doing this right or am I tossing the idea of success completely_?

He had a feeling it was more of the latter in his case than the former.

“I thought you have succeeded in contacting a _genius loci_ before? Or was that an accident?” Helblindi asked.

“It was not an accident,” Loki insisted. “But surely, our case is far more difficult than my experience.”

“I fail to see how. A genius loci is a genius loci.”

Loki snorted. “A genius loci for a tower is not on the same scale as one for _a whole planet_. Perhaps we need to admit that this is out of our current abilities.”

Helblindi merely raised an eyebrow at him. “Is that your excuse to give up, Liesmith?”

“ _Please_. I was only stating that we may need to gain outside help on this issue, _Tviblindi_.” Loki cracked his knuckles before picking up the blood-filled chalice not far from them again. “At no point did I say that I have no idea of who I can ask.”

Helblindi growled. “Don’t tell me you need to use the chalice to cross worlds. _Again_.”

Loki smirked. “Oh, nothing as strenuous, I assure you. A little assistance is necessary, yes, but I only need to _sleep_.”

After all, there _was_ one particular _alvar_ who was bound to a whole planet, wasn’t there? A rather unusual and particular world too. That alvar couldn’t care less about Odin or the Asgardians in general after being burnt once too often in dealing with the greater realms of the Nine Realms. _Perfect_. Of course, it was a matter of finding the right bait, the right currency to trade favours with. _Hmm_. Loki walked around in thought as he weighed different factors in the invisible scales of his mind. He had just the right person to contact. It was a good thing that he was often good company and conversation partner for Mimir, wasn’t it? It was boring being a disembodied head—one was rarely able to go out and meet people from his spot, never mind that he had everything at hand, or that he could know many things through the water.

And yet sitting on the well of knowledge for centuries, he was bound to know many things about many people. Even histories that have been hidden, unacknowledged, _erased_.

“Who will you visit, Liesmith?”

“A disembodied head, of course. Who else?”

‘-

Jane looked around once more, at the men and women in their seats, all too sombre and focused on their respective screens.

“Why am I even here, anyway? I’m not much of a help now.”

Tony turned around. “Oh, but you _are_ First Contact, especially now that we’re as close to blind as possible. It’s great that you’ve given us the possible points of entry for them, it’s still too much. Could you weed them down?”

“In ten days,” Jane said, staring at him back. He looked sceptical.

She was shaking her head. “Look, do you know the _size_ of the NOAA data? If I didn’t use Abe Mosby’s dataset, all neatly categorised and tagged, it would’ve taken even _longer_. The number crunching to get more detail isn’t a little and there’s only me and Darcy working on this—”

“I’ll give you your staff.” Tony cut in, even as Jane tried to remember something niggling at the back of her head about Abe’s information. “I should’ve done this before, but eh, none of us realised what it’s worth before or how it’s going to be a freaking emergency in a week. Two or three post-docs and another four or so grad students for your lab to work on it. I think I’ve got just the extraordinary kids in mind for you. Now, how long would it take, Foster?”

Jane threw her hands in the air. Some people would just not get the idea that they can’t get everything _now_. Poor impulse control and Tony Stark weren’t just old drinking buddies, they probably had the same pot dealer. “It would still take some time to acclimatise them to the work and the lab! Teams don’t just get together instantly and work perfectly in one go.”

“How long?”

She sighed. “Maybe five days, fewer if the team gets together faster.”

“Great! I’ll pass this on to SI Research and you’d have the bios of a working team or three ready by this evening for you to pick and choose from. No team-building necessary—they all know each other already. Heck, I bet some of them would already be moving to the lab right there and then.”

“I might as well get my sleep now, don’t I?” She murmured to no one in particular. Tony beamed at her as the sarcasm completely sailed over his head. Maybe he simply didn’t care about it.

“Excellent! Great to see you already know what to do. Good luck, Jane!”

“A miracle would be much better than luck right now.” She muttered under her breath.

Jane waved listlessly at him. Just before she walked away, something one of the staff had reported to Tony clicked with something that had been bothering her for a while. Like an itch she couldn’t quite scratch.  She ran back, dodging one junior staff easily and grabbed his elbow.

“Tony, _wait_.”

“Yes?”

“ _There hasn’t been a solar flare_ ,” Jane said. “Believe me, I’ve checked. Abe—an atmospheric physicist I know asked me about it several days ago.”

Tony kicked the railing and swore as insight struck him like a one-two punch.

“ _Fuck,_ they’re actually jamming us on purpose!”

There was more than one sharp intake of breath. She could see the staffs around her all turning waxy as blood rushed away from their faces.

“They might’ve even done a test run before,” Jane rushed as understanding came together in her mind.

“ _What?_ ”

“There was also an unusual aurora more than a week ago, right? Visible from the north all the way south to Damascus? _That_ aurora? There’s no solar flare to match that one either.” She had no idea why her voice wasn’t breaking now, because her hands didn’t feel so steady anymore. The realisation hadn’t hit her until she said it out loud. Tony’s hand on her arm was surprisingly firm and supportive.

“You alright?”

“I’ll…” Jane took a breath. “I’ll be fine. I just need to sit down.”

She leaned against a wall. Tony nodded. When he marched into the middle of a group of monitors, everyone easily made way for him.

“That’s _it_. No one’s shitting with my planet. We’re finding the source Right. The fuck. _Now_. Because we’re not going to just lie down and die, are we? Let’s show ‘em how we bite and scratch every step of the way.” She could see people straightening up at the words, finding the spirit to fight back. Even Jane couldn’t help a little smile at that.

“Okay, somebody, give me a list of the satellites that are still online around that place. I want to know our resources on the ground as well. I can’t believe we’re completely blind—there’s probably more than enough sensors to generate an image, we just have to be creative about what we use and take everything we can get from the entire spectrum. Let’s start from the radio waves and work up in frequency…”

She wasn’t listening to the rest of Tony’s orders, too keyed up about the idea that yes, someone is launching a large scale attack on her home. She must’ve been too distracted, because she didn’t even hear Thor coming until he was next to her, his blue eyes solemn. His hand was a hair’s breadth away from her face.

“ _Hey_.”

“Jane.”

He looked every inch like a legendary Norse God in his attire. Jane smiled and he lit up with happiness when he saw her.

She gave him a quick hug. “Good luck.”

“I wish the same to you.”

Slowly, he placed a hand over her left cheek, his large fingers moving so delicately over her skin as if trying to memorise her face. Jane blushed and turned away, but Thor wouldn’t have it as he carefully nudged her gaze back to his.

“You are still the loveliest thing in all the worlds.” He said gravely.

As much as she’d always loved hearing Thor’s honesty, his voice was unbearably serious. This reminded her of the sort of thing soldiers in movies say right before they go off and get killed, as Darcy would gladly point out if she was here. As irrational as she knew it was, Jane couldn’t calm herself down about it. Thor was reluctant to remove his hand from her waist as well and they stepped sideways a little to walk out of the way of other people. 

“You’re leaving tonight?” She asked.

“No, I don’t think so, but—”

“Rain Man! Just who I want to see, c’mere and tell me what you think about this.” Tony’s loud and energetic voice cut through the atmosphere the way the family dog chews out perfectly warm slippers and expects praise for it. Jane sighed and stepped away as Thor turned to his teammate. “The big guy’s declaiming and everything, but I don’t think we understand him.”

It turned out that Thor didn’t really need to follow Tony anywhere because soon the largest screen in the room displayed a tall, muscular frost giant, heads and shoulders above everyone else standing in the middle of a clearing. ( _A parking lot? A town square?_ _A small park?_ With some of the buildings destroyed and torn down around him, Jane found that she couldn’t really tell the difference). On the screen, he had raised his sword in the air and was loudly saying something. Another frost giant stood a little behind and to the side from him, a staff in hand.

“ _What’s the dude with the staff doing?_ ”  Jane heard someone behind her asking.

“ _Well, he waved it around and did some mumbo jumbo and his volume went up. Now, we could hear him. Some loudspeaker spell, maybe?_ ”

Thor was frowning.

“He is speaking in the old Jötnar language.” He had barely raised his voice but many people were looking at him now and almost everyone had stopped speaking.

“Is that unusual?” Maria Hill asked from the central raised platform. She seemed unapproachable to Jane most of the time, but now she was more intimidating than usual.

Thor nodded. “Yes. We have all been using Allspeak for centuries now.”

“What is he saying?” The Acting Director of SHIELD asked again.

“Unpleasant things,” Thor growled. Before anyone (Maria) could ask him to please clarify what unpleasant things they were talking about, and no, SHIELD wouldn’t even mind if it spoke of threats of castration and disembowelment, the frost giant spoke again in a language that everyone could understand. “Now he’s using Allspeak. He is saying more or less the same thing.”

“ _So why on earth would he need to say it in ancient Jötnar to begin with?_ ” Tony mused aloud in the background. No one was listening to him now, too drawn to the screen.

“ _Denizens of Midgard!_ ”

“ _For too long has Asgard extended their protection to you. No longer. If the Asgardians have foolishly decided to withdraw their claim over Midgard, then let those curs retreat with their tails between their legs, for the Jötnar will extend theirs! I am Byleistr Laufeyson and I will stake the grounds of my empire here! Know your ruler, mortals! Know that I will grant you presence in Ragnarok!_ ”

He rammed his sword into the ground as he finished and the earth cracker under his feet when he did that. That was where the broadcast ended as the relentless wave of frost giants continued on their march. The Command Room returned with a more intense buzz than before as SHIELD’s industrious hive geared up for war.

“Man, what is it about earth that pulls all the crazies here?” Tony said. More than one person quirked their lips at the words, even if they didn’t slow their work down. The answer to that came from an unexpected source.

“Midgard is a Crossroad of the Yggdrasil,” Thor replied.

The blond Asgardian eyes were sombre, his attention completely trained on the scene with the megalomaniacal frost giant. Movements in the room slowed down. People turned their heads to him, Jane included. Maria was glancing from under her eyelids with an unreadable expression. Iron Man himself was opening and closing his mouth every other second. One might even be able to hear a pin drop at the right moment.

“ _What?!_ ” Tony shouted.

Thor’s eyebrows rose up at the attention he was getting.

“Ah, none of you are aware of this?”

“If we are, we wouldn’t be asking,” Tony complained.

“ _Crossroad_?” Jane asked. “To which places?”

“A natural Crossroad of the Tree connects many places together. Not many realms have this privilege, and thus it is among a precious few.” He gave her an apologetic look, aware that he hadn’t answered her question. “I’m sorry, Jane, but I do not know of all the worlds close to Midgard on the Yggdrasil other than Asgard.”

“I thought you guys go to places with the Bifrost?” Tony asked.

He nodded. “Of course. But things are not the same for magicians.”

The billionaire was concerned. “They could just pop here if they want to?”

“They could, if they can find the way. But finding the Ways of the World Tree is not easy. The effort to widen a pin hole into a gate to step through is not the work of an afternoon or a year. Most of the time it is too much effort—it is not easy to find ten other magicians that is interested with any particular plan, much less willing to lend their power. More than that and it becomes a folly.”

Jane’s eyes widened. “It’s the energy cost required to force a path. It’s not cheap, is it?”

He mulled it over. “I don’t think it is, Jane, but compared to other worlds? To go to Midgard takes far less than other realms, even to Vanaheim without the Bifrost.”

“Welcome to our Intergalactic Highway. You little humans should be happy to roll over and let us flatten your homes; contribute to galactic progress!” Tony sarcastically commented to himself before he turned back once more. “How much less, Rain Man?”

His shoulders flicked upwards quickly, a helpless shrug. “My brother would be far more aware of that than I am. He is…he is one of the few who have studied the Paths of the World Tree extensively.”

Jane found a spare seat to drop herself in as she felt power drain from her. Tony didn’t look that much better either and his pissed off voice rang louder above everyone else’s.

“We have to deal with a freaking attempted Armageddon _again??_ ”

‘-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, there goes Armageddon. Please tune in for your regularly-scheduled end-of-the-world. Next update would take _at least_ two weeks, because as you can see, I've started raising the big plot flags here.  
>    
> 
> 
> Story-related Notes:
> 
> \- Based on my poking around, Altgjöf seems to be pronounced somewhere close to _All-cheff_ , or _All-jeff_.
> 
> \- There are easter egg shoutouts to the late (and lamented) Sir Terry Pratchett’s _Discworld_ series for the discerning reader.
> 
> \- Also, there is a very interesting story how Altgjöf came to be carrying whatever it is that she claims to be carrying, and I promise that I’m not nerfing or underestimating Asgard’s security. Of course, this pertinent plot point is still for a much later reveal.
> 
> \- _“A disembodied head…”_ For the less mythologically inclined, the head is clearly Mimir’s.  
>    
>    
> 
> 
> Random Historical and Philological Info:
> 
> **_Hnefatafl_ :** A board game played on a checkered board, part of the family of _tafl_ board games. The best historical records indicating that it’s played on an 11x11 or 13x13 board (the sides are odd-numbered because you need to have exactly one square at the centre of the board to place the King of Whites on it). It’s a game with intentional power asymmetry between the two parties. Only white has a king and they start as one group in the middle of the board. Black doesn’t have a king and has around twice the forces that white does. Black starts at all four sides of the board—the few squares around each corners are left clear. 
> 
> The objective of the white team is to escort the white king safely to the edge. The objective of the black team is to stop the white team or capturing the king. In this way, playing as white can be seen as a metaphor for a Viking raiding party caught off-balance on the shore and trying to reach their boats. The particular rules vary with different regional versions.
> 
>  ** _Mimir_ :** (Norse Mythology) _Mimir_ and _Hoenir_ were the Aesir exchanged as hostages with the Vanir at the end of the Aesir-Vanir war. Mimir had his head was chopped off by the Vanir and sent back to them because they were disappointed by his brother, Hoenir who can’t reach a decision without him around. They feel like they’re cheated—instead of getting two wise men, they just get one wise men and a weak imitation of one. Odin pickled and preserved the head and still talks to it for wisdom. Poor unlucky dude. 
> 
> (If the Vanir _really_ had to behead someone to send a message to the Aesir, I have no idea why they don’t just behead Hoenir, because he’s the supposed fool, not Mimir.)
> 
>  ** _Tviblindi_ :** (Old Norse) Two-blind, blind in both eyes. Yes, this is an actual Old Norse name/nickname.


	31. XXXI. Let Loose the Hounds of War, Part 2 (Sides)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Darcy holds on by the skin of her teeth. Jane shifts into high gear. Paths change. In which we meet Vethrfölnir the Hawk for the first time as he approaches the Current Locale*. He finds something Deeply Unsettling. Darcy decides to spare her friends and offers herself up. Pepper steps in and changes the game. Escape._
> 
> _*For a given value of locale that is less ‘town’ and closer to ‘galactic sector’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The standard disclaimer. More supporting characters needed in the lab(s) meant more OCs. More OCs mean more expies (to me). Bonus cookies to people who can spot them.
> 
> First appearance of the Hawk and the Rooster, a.k.a. Veth(rfölnir) and Vidop(nir). They're generally there for sense of scale for the the Shit Hath Hitten the Fan bits (and well, their story will of course link up with the main one later). Word of warning, this seems to be my longest chapter yet. It's _long_ , people, but it would be even more awkward split into two. So I've given up and just uploaded stuff.

### XXXI. Let Loose the Hounds of War, Part 2 (Sides)

Some days, running forward was much better than standing still and looking back, only to be swallowed by whatever it was you thought you’ve left behind. Jane knew that better than anyone. The problem was that it wasn’t always easy to tell the difference between running forward and running away.

When Jane arrived at the lab, she wasn’t surprised to see Darcy was sitting cross-legged on the floor, print outs spread in front of her with unusual carelessness. Her elbows were on her knees and her hands covered her eyes. Jane didn’t need to see her friend’s face to drop herself right in front of Darcy and pull her into a hug. It worried her that Darcy was barely hugging back, only leaning tiredly against her.

“You should go home.” Jane said softly, close to her ear.

“I’m not done yet.”

“You’re supposed to take a week off.”

Darcy snorted. “When did _you_ ever take a week off? Not even when we were cut off from Asgard.”

She shrugged, knowing her weaknesses well. “I thought we agreed that I was a bad example in that case.”

“But you’re also right. It’s like when you suspect an anomaly was going critical—we can’t really go off the clock in that case, just take turns keeping watch.”

Jane shook her head as she drew back. “We don’t have anything like that.”

“We’ve got incoming frost giants geared for war,” Darcy answered flatly. “Of course we need to be on watch.”

Jane winced. When Darcy had set her mind on something, she wouldn’t even let her personal feelings get in the way. Most of the time, it was a good thing—she could break up with her boyfriend the night before and still she showed up clear-eyed the next morning, even if it was an hour later than usual. Sometimes, though, Jane was surprised at how similar they could be in ways that are not so flattering.

Like working through the piles of paper even when her eyes were visibly red.

“We’ve already found out their general area and Tony’s got people looking into it. You’ve done your share of the work Darce and it’s great, _really_. But at the end of the day you still need to decompress.” The scientist said.

Darcy raised her eyebrows at that. “We need to separate the actual portals from the failed anomalies.”

“Tony’s authorised me to get my own team to do just that,” Jane answered. “I’m vetting them right now. Please, Darcy, this isn’t the type of work we can do just the two of us anymore. There’d be a ton of stuff that needs doing by tomorrow—you wouldn’t want to lose sleep, come in late and saw that I’ve forgotten to eat all day, would you?”

It was a bad joke, but it earned her a watery laugh from her assistant that Jane couldn’t help but smile. Darcy had always taken care of her, she thought it was time that she returned the favour.

“Come on. We’re not going to get any of this done faster between the two of us than between _eight_.”

‘-

Everything began with a door that closed in front of her.

Darcy had taken a day off because Jane would’ve kicked her out of the lab otherwise, but she wasn’t thankful for it. All she had from it was restlessness, nightmares without shape and pattern but for an endless worry that gripped her guts worse than any visible monster. So she refused to lay off, refused to be idle the day after that and always woke up immediately once sleep receded from her eyelids. She marched to the lab without delay after she finished breakfast and got herself cleaned up.

She arrived on the 89th floor within a minute of Jane, to her surprise. Her friend was in front of the lab just as Darcy stepped off the elevator.

“Wait—”

Jane entered without having heard of her. Darcy shrugged without concern as she walked on. She pulled her ID card out, pressing it to the ident-reader by the door.

It scanned once, twice, and turned red in colour with a harsh beep to warn her off.

“What the hell?”

She shoved her card against it again in annoyance. No luck, as the result stayed the same. She gave up and just pressed the bell and the intercom.

The doors slid open to Jane’s annoyed face—she glared at the ident-reader more than Darcy, though, where the light was still shining red.

“Forgot your card? Had it broken?” Jane asked. She stared down the reader with a scowl. She’d taken Darcy’s card and tried her hand at swiping it. It didn’t work much better for her either.

“The second one, I think. It won’t let me in.”

“Well you can sort that out later with the administration. Come on in.” At this point, Jane had given up and just opened the door with hers.

They had only taken a step when Jarvis’ voice chimed suddenly in the air near them.

“It might be prudent to warn you now that you don’t have clearance for this lab, Miss Lewis.”

“That’s impossible,” Jane complained. “She’s my _assistant_. How am I supposed to work if she doesn’t have the clearance here? I’m sure there’s an error we need to fix soon for that.”

“I am merely stating what I have noticed, Dr. Foster.”

“Well _I_ want to know how it happened—” Jane was lost in conversation with Jarvis for a while.

Darcy was too surprised to complain as the light chatter in the lab met her. There were _people_ here. There were kids with bleary eyes by the blackboards in jeans and converse shoes, two people in hoodies, and God, didn’t _that_ bring flashbacks to her undergrad days? There were people by the other spare tables and computers. There was even a petite girl with dark bob hair sitting on the couch with what looked like a custom-made, powder-blue laptop at hand. Darcy did a double take because she was so fresh-faced she looked as if she could still be in high school. _Of course it wouldn’t have mattered if they were teen geniuses, would it?_ She wouldn’t put it past Tony to be able to find people like him, prodigies with shining and bright futures spread out ahead of them. That thought was met with something uncomfortably akin to inadequacy in her.

There were less than ten new arrivals in all, but Darcy had never even had five people working in the lab at once that it felt full to her. All of them looked up with varying degrees of speed at Jane, and she could see the respect and sometimes even awe in them.

“Morning Dr. Foster!” A hipster-ish blonde with long messy curls remarked from her left, giving a jaunty salute. Darcy did a double take because for a moment she thought he was a pretty girl—that thick long hair didn’t help. _Waay too beautiful for his own good_.

Not that it mattered whether he was a he or a she to Darcy as she continued staring, not quite believing her eyes. There were perks for being an equal-opportunity gal.

“Morning.” A woman nodded to Jane. Darcy turned, following her boss’ attention.

“I’m going to try to write a manual for this machine, if you don’t mind—” another said in lieu of a greeting, cornrows falling down a high ponytail, voice oddly flat.

“I’m on the weather stats. I’m pretty sure I can get this in proper database format—”

“People, I _still_ remember where you’re last at yesterday. No need to rush the morning reports,” Jane raised her voice above the din. It was impressive how the chatter dropped down immediately after that, and how everyone gradually gravitated towards her.

“But I worked well into the night with Pulaski.” That blond that she’d noticed earlier said again.

He brandished the printouts at hand with all the zeal of a valedictorian as he pushed his reading glasses up. Darcy noticed the way the eyes of more than a few of the others followed him, _he has the makings of a leader_ , Darcy thought, his androgynous looks notwithstanding.

Jane sighed and nodded. “Alright Zacharie, so you and Janek would need to update me on what you’ve got and everyone else is still working on what they’ve been working on. Am I right?”

More nods all around. Jane continued. “Right. Oh, and before I forget, everyone, this is Darcy Lewis, my assistant. Darce, they’re the new members to our lab since Tony needed to rush some things.”

There was a rush of hello and hi rushing towards her; Darcy was pretty sure she wouldn’t be able to remember everyone’s names at this point except for a few. Fortunately, they were wearing name tags, but some people easily pulled her attention more than others (Zacharie Mornay was that pretty blond, _okay_. Janek Pulaski was the tall, quiet guy who seemed content to be in the background). Everything was almost normal again until the youngest-looking of them, the petite girl who introduced herself as Mizuno raised a timid hand (her first name was said too softly for Darcy to catch).

“Um, excuse me,”

“Yes?”

“I don’t think I’ve seen your name on the organisation chart.” She was cringing as she said this to Darcy. It was clear that the young woman felt bad about it so she didn’t take it personally.

“Really? When we’re out of interns, the only members of this lab are _me_ and _Jane_.” Darcy replied.

Jane furrowed her brows. “Yes. It’s not possible that she’s _not_ a part of my team.”

The warmth that she felt from Jane’s defence was indescribable.

“But I was checking the administrative details of our transfer, just to make sure everything’s in order. Dr. Foster is clearly the head and everyone’s names are _here_ , I made sure of that. But I can’t find any mention of Darcy Lewis—”

Zacharie had quickly moved past his friends and lab-mates, long pony tail close to swiping several people as he did so and earning curses from them, good-natured huffs of annoyance and one easy shove to the shoulder from another. He took the tablet that Mizuno was holding with a grab over her shoulder, only a glance passing between them in a wordless request. She handed it to him in a blink—her forehead would hit his chin if she turned, but she barely reacted to his looming presence. Darcy saw the ease of long friendship speaking in their gestures and the way they leaned into each other’s space.

He frowned as he scanned whatever document he saw on it.

“I’m sorry Dr. Foster, but Ames is right. She’s impeccable in her paperwork.” Zach handed the tablet to Jane. The concerned look he didn’t bother to hide when he turned to Darcy was making her worry for real. “We don’t have Darcy Lewis registered to the lab.”

Mizuno, or Ames, as Zach referred her, was even worse. She was staring at Darcy with blatant sympathy in her dark eyes.

“Well, we’ll just continue our work as usual until this mistake is rectified, won’t we?” Jane said this with a smile on her face, but there was no mistaking the steel in her tone.

“I’ll find out about it,” Mornay answered easily. Mizuno shook her head.

“No, you’re the one doing analysis for the scans, Zach, and we’re on a deadline with that. I’ll take this. I’m good at getting information out of any database.”

There was a polite cough in the background that could’ve meant anything, but seemed for all intents and purposes to be implying _something_. Mizuno barely blinked, unfazed, but Darcy was sure she saw Zach sending a warning look somewhere off to the side. Jane was looking over whatever it was that the gal with cornrows brought over.

“Ames is a great programmer,” she could hear Zach’s low tones to someone else. She didn’t catch the reply, but there was no mistaking the conciliatory tones of someone backing away.

Through all this, ‘Ames’ Mizuno only glanced to her tablet once before she was once more a fountain of calmness as she laid her gaze on Darcy. “I’m sure this is all just a misunderstanding.”

“Thanks.” Darcy couldn’t help but smile back to the younger woman. “Mizuno, is it?”

She nodded. “Yes. We’ll fix this soon, Ms. Lewis.”

There was the faintest trace of an accent there, a hint that she didn’t grow up in an English-speaking country. It would explain why she seemed to be comfortable using a more formal form of address.

“Please, just Darcy.”

She brightened at that. “Then you must call me Amelia. Or Amy, Ames or Ami, whichever one that you prefer.”

She was babbling slightly, but it made her more endearing than not. Paired with gentleness of her smile, Amy’s sweet nature was an almost painful contrast to the limbo Darcy was quickly finding herself in. The assistant could only nod without a word as Jane had already coasted along the waves of explanation given by Zach and Janek.

The other new members of the lab began to slowly scatter away again, their thoughts visibly distracted by the tasks that had occupied them before. A few of them did glance at Darcy with a speculative look – these she outright ignored. The conversation picked up amongst the new lab members again with scientific jargon easily thrown back and forth between them. The words wove an atmosphere of collegial closeness. People soon began breaking off in small teams of twos and threes, separating away to their own tasks.

Amy faithfully stuck to her side, and yet she still felt as if _she_ was the interloper here, a changeling more familiar with politics and history left inside a castle of the hard sciences.

It was hard to shake off the feeling that she was here on borrowed time.

‘-

The Hawk has flown for a long time, sent by the Eagle. Now, it was time for him to report back to his lord.

He had soared higher than the stars and their travelling companions circling around them, and still above the cradles of galaxies. He himself, mere Vethrfölnir would never have imagined himself of taking flight for ages without once pausing. But aeons ago his people had need for a scout for the wide expanse beyond the Nine Realms or any other realms familiar and within reach by the Asgardians’ Bifrost (or the Traditionalist’s Yggdrasil). Farther still they wished to stand guard, beyond even the far branches of the Yggdrasil known well to many sorcerers and other learned scholars. From places reachable by an Yggdrasil twig whose existence is fainter than a rumour, farther still he must go.

But it is not a journey that _any_ would survive. Not man, not even _alvar_. It does not matter how many golden _epli_ he has taken from the Asgardians. Vethrfölnir will not survive, but the Hawk would. Thus when the Hawk was bound to Vethrfölnir, the physical realm was suddenly not his concern anymore.

Of course, most people would not understand—not Aesir nor Vanir, not Jötnar nor Muspellir, not Alvar nor Svartalvar (the Dwarves generally just do not care to speculate about things they can’t work with their hands). What exactly is _the Hawk_?

Older still than the _genii locorum_ , the land spirits, are those who have been present when worlds were young. When planets had scarcely settled down from their volcanoes and sultry, hot gases wreathed them with that verve of youth, the primordial spirits had swum in the void between the stars when it suits them. Many of the _genii primordialium_ had taken on simple constraints of scale and shells, of tails and tentacles to visit this rudimentary corner of the universe, folding away almost all of themselves in order to fit here.

Who knows what has caught their attention? As inscrutably, when it piqued them to do so, they would cast away the shells and silk, the tentacles and tusks and took off for the higher, wider parts of the universe. Then, they would unfurl their fuller selves where there are enough numbers of space to do so and sail in their actual splendour.

Of course to be one with the Hawk meant that there was something that Vethrfölnir will need to cast away too. His humanity – the part of him that always knew himself as part of his people. He had to let go of the living, _breathing_ part of him that has followed his Liege, Lord of the Even-Handed back when the worlds were mostly forests and even some of the forests were _young_. When some of the land had only been birthed by the sea, or leavened by volcanoes. At that time, they had barely noticed the humans then when they were passing their world, so few and sad they were. The Asgardians had yet to build their civilisation to go beyond their own star. The _áss_ had yet to dominate the Realms so decisively and utterly, nor the alvar so faded.

(This thought would’ve saddened Vethrfölnir once upon a time. Now, to Vethrfölnir the Hawk it was merely a historical curiosity about how civilisations evolve).

But hadn’t his liege lord bound himself to the Eagle? What should he fear with such a shining example at hand? Undaunted, he accepted the offer he knew many men better than him had declined.

After that was done, he was off to the stars.

The first and last time he gladly visited Alfheim as the Hawk, he found their concerns of their everyday life as impossibly mundane. Why stay tied up to one land, one civilisation, one _people_ when there is the whole of the heavens for you to travel through? Why settle for consuming the various organic creatures (plants, _animals_ ) who have evolved in the slow manner of all creatures relying on chemical reaction? Beginning with the plants that baked their own food (their own _selves_ ) from their sun, to the animals and creatures higher up on the food chain, carefully building themselves from the complex chemical energy already constructed by those plants? Why scrounge for whatever bits of energy they can desperately grasp at, as if they knew not of better methods?

_Why not enjoy most of your food from the brightness of those stars yourself? Why bother with such slow intermediation, with energy tamed and corralled, when one can taste the life-bringing light itself? Feel its sparkles spread inside? Follow each tingle left by the indescribable radiance?_

_Why indeed?_

He and Hawk thought the same for the first time that day, and as the aeon passes the more he realised that he could not tell where Vethrfölnir ended and the Hawk began. They were one now and that was all that matters.

(He has begun to realise that perhaps that was why the Hawk did not concern himself overly much when Vethrfölnir the alvar was being bound to him—he could not imagine that there was more of Vethrfölnir compared to the Hawk. It was far more probable that Vethrfölnir was absorbed by the Hawk than the other way around).

But they, _he_ —both Vethrfölnir and Hawk—had swum, sailed through spaces both lower and higher to their immense delight, discovering many wondrous things in his journey, and that was all that matters.

Right now he was circling his way back to the Nine Realms. It was just the time for his circuit to reach the immediate neighbourhood in the next century (or millennia, he did not keep track of their inconvenient calendars much). It surprised him slightly that he had forgotten how much folding he had to do to be able to descend down so many spaces. He had the consternation of a man who had woken up to find himself suddenly contorted in a box.

Except unlike that man in the box, he can’t even _see_ or _perceive_ all of himself at spaces this low. To paraphrase for mere mortals, it was as if his ears were stuffed with wool and dirt cast upon his eyes. His tongue felt as if wrapped in cotton and—

 _Duty calls_ , the Hawk reminded himself. _The Eagle has stood vigilant where he is, voluntarily clipping his own wings to watch over his people. We who can still spread our wings surely have no cause to complain_.

It was true. With a sigh he stopped his own litany of complaints and focused on his task no matter how confining the space he was travelling through seems to be—to keep watch.

Soon enough the endless symphony of the universe soothed him once more.

He could not hear all of it here, of course, unlike the higher spaces, but he could hear enough to comfort. The steady music of the stars and their planets, of stars and their partners were a reliable background music. Far more foundational than all that was the _leitmotif_ , the theme melodies of the elements vibrating with joy as they made their way through the expanse of space, following their own paths. The heart of all stars were always the energetic bubbling chorus of nuclear fusion, the threads winding there vibrating faster and with a higher intensity than most anywhere else. The low bass thrum of planets and galaxies exchanging gravitons was almost unnoticeable at first glimpse and yet was impossible to miss once noted—it anchored the rest of the symphony together.

The Hawk noted all this and found it all in Good Health.

(He has not forgotten of one time he arrived in Alfheim to deliver his report to his Liege that All is Well and received a barrage of questions from other members of the court. They wanted to know more than simply the condition of Space. They wanted to know whether there were any other realms planning an invasion, or whether the giants were being foolish yet again. He has a simple answer then, _why should I concern myself with only your neighbourhood and your petty concerns?_

Most of them were not amused and some had foolishly thought to strip Vethrfölnir of the Hawk to ‘award’ him to someone else, perhaps an alvar more obliging to their interests—he had to hold back his own laughter, then. The Hawk would not now be Vethrfölnir too, if he had not been curious enough of this foolishly foolhardy Vethrfölnir to wish to meet him.

The court could be foolish, but he could not care less. The Eagle knew the worth of his observation, knew what was important beyond the mere day-to-day concerns of this lower space. Thus, he did it mostly for his liege lord’s sake—anyone else can go hang, for all he cared.)

Vethrfölnir was barely setting course for Alfheim and preparing to shift spaces when something brought him to a pause. At first it was just an inkling, and then it was a feeling. At some point his ears caught the first sour tone and he started wondering. It was… _hmm, the direction is familiar_. The Eagle would understand if he was delayed in arrival due to his investigation. Besides, it wasn’t far to Alfheim, not at all. His duty took priority to mere routine reports. It was…

_Midgard?_

Curiosity spurred him. Arriving there in next Midgardian millennia would not do, nor would he settle for the next century. He had to sail in the higher space to cut the distance in this space quickly. Unfurling himself, he flew up, into a space where the music was clearer and the golden glow of the strings of the universe more visible. For the first time his attention was not _here_ , though, and oddly enough was focused in a lower space.

Folding his wings (his carapace (his limbs (himself))) away after he judged sufficient distance to have been crossed, he dove back to the lower space where Midgard was at. The Hawk could hear more discordant notes slipping among the polyphony. The music of the sun and its children still continued solidly apace, but if he strained himself with what limited senses he had here, he would notice where the differences had started slipping in.

“ _…”_

The melodies were turning subtly _wrong_. The wrong notes were there, slipping in, insinuating themselves as if it was where they were always supposed to be. The dissonance explained what he could feel crashing against the sensitive surface of his feathers (skin (membrane)), of atoms tearing themselves apart with unexpected frequency as neutrons and protons flying away from each other at a higher rate than was natural. _Unstable_.

_“…!”_

What should have been bosom companions could now no longer stand the sight and presence of each other as electromagnetic force pulled them apart as it always did. And yet there was nothing _new_ about electromagnetic force – like charge repels like. Its beat, providing structure to the symphony, stayed the same. It provided the same structure still—but the atoms are weaker.

“ _V…!”_

_Why?_

_What was the difference now?_

Something fundamental had changed.

_“Vethrfölnir!”_

Wait, what was that? And here he thought it was just the normal static one gets from solar winds—one gets used to it after swimming close to stars the first several times.

_Vethrfölnir! Vethrfölnir! Thank Yggdrasil I managed to locate you! I had feared that you might have decided not to arrive within this millennia!”_

A shrill voice cut through his concentration, removing any ability to think. He sighed and settled to fall into a light sleep, slipping from the stars and into the In-Between to find the source of the discomfiting mental screech.

He opened his eyes.

The sky was eternally a cold winter blue here, slightly hazy through the gauze-thin clouds. It was the only Alfheim sky he remembered these days, of the day he flew away to outer space. The Hawk was perched on the top of the Great World Tree, looking down, he saw the creature who was looking for him. The Rooster.

 _Why would you think that, Vidopnir?_ He asked mildly. _I was on my way back_.

The Hawk might have been considering exactly that, but there was no way that he would admit that to the Rooster, of all beings.

One is never quite sure what the Rooster is, as he was not exactly of the scale of most _genii primordialium_ either. Some suspect it might be something else, but as he is still useful, it was never an issue. He had become the Eagle’s messenger most of the time.

 _Because you’ve always been slightly late in arriving, in your later visits even more so._ The Rooster said.

The Hawk reminded himself once more that the Rooster could be foolish at times, but not exactly stupid. _But I am the Watchman in the Skies, and I could not be remiss of my task_.

 _Yes, and half the court was sure you would not_ care.

Now that offended him slightly. The Hawk had _never_ not come when summoned.

 _Can you be quick? I found something worth the vigilance and you’re taking my time with_ court _rumours?_

 _Of course_ not _. I wouldn’t have stopped you just for_ that _._ Rooster snapped, but the Hawk was not paying attention to him now as he turned his head around. He thought he had heard the lulling winds of the open plains – one of the few weather-related memories of an alvar that he has not lost yet to the more interesting weather in space.

And still, he thought he’d heard the world music gone wrong even here. For a moment.

 _It’s bad, I can hear it even when I’m half asleep_ , the Hawk murmured

 _I don’t even know what he’s thinking now_ , Rooster said distractedly and began to pace. _I thought we all knew what is written on the stars when the alvar began to wane as the ás waxes_.

 _If you’re done, I’m leaving right now_.

The Rooster threw his wings in the air. _I never thought you could be any worse conversationalist than you were before! Fine, Lord Tyr summons you to accompany him to Asgard! Make of that as you will and be done with it!_

The Hawk followed him down several branches. It wasn’t as if he ever minded following the Eagle. _But what of the discordances I’ve found?_

He was almost swiped by the Rooster’s mean kick, avoiding his spur. _Do you honestly think that our King would not have noticed it?_

The Hawk froze. _It is not_ just _in space, then? Where is the source? Why Asgard and not Midgard, then?_

The Rooster crowed in annoyance. _What would I know? I’m a mere messenger, aren’t I?_ with a final jump off the farthest branch, he disappeared from view.

The Hawk jumped off from the same branch as he was out of things to do, slowly letting go of sleep as he fell through the air.

Soon he was alone and flying through space once more. He would accompany his liege lord to Asgard, there was no doubt about it, yet he loathed to give up his investigations just yet. He still had a little more time. The occasional, unexpected wrongness in the symphony of the universe that he was hearing began to annoy him, no matter how faint or scarce they were.

After all, it only got stronger the closer he was to Midgard.

Not even the most sensitive mage among the Alvar would these irregularities, nor those of the Vanir. The only reason Vethrfölnir had heard them was because he was the _Hawk_.

He noted with surprise the mechanical eyes humans have set circling in space around Midgard—since when had they even managed _flight?_ Much less to the depths of space? How long has it been since he passed this way? Casting his eyes over their continents, he began to see how much forests have disappeared since he last saw the Midgardian’s home. Great cities have proliferated across the lands with the rapidity of blooms spreading across the tundra with the first breath of spring, girding the planet with a belt of concrete and light.

But seeing how primitive the eyes-in-the-skies were, he doubted they would see or hear what he had. Scattered wide in far-flung corners that one or several were barely noticeable, seen together they were distressing. Singularly or in flocks, atoms were breaking apart.

The strong nuclear force was _fluctuating_.

Not everywhere, of course, for when _that_ had happened then even the stars would fall apart and everything else in the universe will dissolve into a lot of nothing. What he caught was just the occasional sour notes, but where those wrong notes had pushed their way in, the strong force _weakened_.

A cry of anguish built in his throat. This couldn’t possibly be happening. One of the primary structures of the universe couldn’t possibly be _failing_. Could it?

The worst possible reason for it was the one word that he still hadn’t managed to say. He couldn’t conceive of it as Vethrfölnir and even as Hawk it was still inconceivable.

_No, no, no, no, no…_

‘-

It didn’t take long until everyone else was deep into their own work. Darcy wasn’t even sure what she could do now as her previous task of checking weather reports had been taken over by one of the other teams. If the glimpses she saw of the laptop screen were correct, Amy’s skill with databases probably extended to hacking them. Oh, everything she did right now was legal, but as someone else who knew how to skirt the border well, Darcy could easily read the signs. Here was someone with the expertise to easily jump over that fence, copy what they wish and jump back before anyone noticed. It would certainly explain Zach’s defensiveness on her behalf if he was aware of her abilities, making sure that no one was going to insinuate out loud what Amy could do. She saw the warning looks he gave to more than one member of the lab who did so. Darcy wondered if Amy herself noticed that, though.

She sighed. Jane now has an even better hacker at her disposal (not that Darcy was ever much of one, she knew, but she had her pride too). It was really hard to hold back the wave of self-pity, but she tried her best.

It was always easier if she had something else to distract her mind with.

Darcy put on her headphone and plugged the audio jack to her StarkPhone. She opened a voice-over-intranet call with Jarvis.

“Good morning, Miss Lewis.”

“It’s Weird-Ass Morning at most right now, but good morning to you,” Darcy said. “Jarvis, you said before that I don’t have the clearance to this lab. When did I lose that?”

“Two days ago.”

“I didn’t notice that—shit, the day when I was off? _That_ day? No wonder I didn’t notice it.” That feeling of wrongness hadn’t left her. If anything, she could almost feel the fine hairs at the back of her neck standing up. She cleared her throat awkwardly and started dropping her things into her small backpack without being really conscious of what she was doing. She had never ignored her gut instinct but it had never been as strong as it was now.

Darcy was as close to panicking as she could remember.

“So, why was I pulled off?”

“There is a note on an inadequacy of your capability in the context of the capacity that the vice-chairman of one of the main Science Labs is expected to have.”

Darcy groaned. She hated bureaucratic speak. It didn’t mean she hadn’t become skilled at unravelling it after digging her ass and Jane’s through so much paperwork, much to her own chagrin.

“That old crap again? I don’t have the credentials they want, yes I _know_. I never did have the so-called credentials even from the beginning and it had never mattered to me and Jane. Heck, Pepper knew all about it and it didn’t matter to SI back then either!”

She had to stop there, had to take a deep breath before she raised her voice and called everyone else’s attention on her. She tried to ignore the old voices in her head that she hadn’t heard for a long time, voices saying that she can’t do this; that she wasn’t good enough, never good enough, and that she was here only because Jane had been desperate that one time for an intern before earth suddenly experienced an honest-to-God First Contact. She was merely lucky to be there for it. So _of course_ her fate _changed_ and it was only a matter of time before she fell—

“As far as I know, Tony didn’t give a damn either, so who had given me shit about it this time?” The words were clipped on her tongue and she closed her eyes.

Darcy did her best to bury the feisty poli-sci undergrad with second-hand clothes and a mostly full-ride scholarship, whose open and easy manners was a mask and a shield in one for the gaping maw of her self-doubt. Most people who saw her wondered how she managed to keep her grades afloat while still being fun-loving. She laughed in the face of any smear campaign and turned what she learned in her classes into weapon, using them in ways most of her peers wouldn’t think of.

Of course most of them wouldn’t have thought it. They didn’t have her ruthlessness born of sheer desperation and urge to survive.

She subtly articulated her position in ways that made it seem she couldn’t have cared less of all they were saying about her, and that she merely ‘pitied those desperate bints that envied her for all she achieved’. It helped that she always knew how to laugh even when she felt like crying. That left a nice catch-22 for anyone who wanted to go on attacking her—it would only confirm Darcy’s assertion that there _were_ desperate bints after her. Her disregard to clinging to the bright and famous had unexpectedly boosted her cachet. They’d thought her life experiences made her invincible instead and she somehow gained notoriety.

What they see was how she seemed to be impervious to meagre concerns and effortlessly well-known, if not popular.

 _Well, they were fucking wrong_.

What her life experience told her was that you can never show any weakness to the wolves lest they eat you. It also gave her the boundless ambition to do her best in getting the hell out of her home town. The high-wire act had her close to burning out in college several times. If it wasn’t for her friends back then, who supported her when she was down, who helped her even if they don’t always agree with her methods…

“The details to that are beyond your clearance, Miss Lewis.” Jarvis answered.

“What can you tell me that _isn’t_ beyond my clearance?”

“What I have just told you, Miss Lewis.”

She wanted to yell but she knew it wouldn’t have done anything, would’ve changed nothing. So she stood up from her desk and paced back and forth now, doing her best not to give in to the urge to just hyperventilate.

Or yell. She’s more partial to the yelling, actually, but she’s not interested in getting everyone worried for no reason.

“The guy or gal who revoked me is beyond my clearance,” Darcy said this slowly, arguments and directions of attack building in her head. She could do this. She’d done this before. “True?”

“Affirmative,” came the reply.

“I’ll ask something different, then. Was the reason my clearance was revoked came from someone in Stark Industries?”

A pause. “No, it didn’t.”

 _Shit_. She had no idea how she kept her voice level.

“Ask any question you may have, Miss Lewis. Your clearance may have been revoked, but I will always answer you.” Jarvis was being his wonderful, helpful self and she realised what the AI was doing. He was giving her a lifeline.

Her mind bent itself in ways she had rarely needed to until she met Loki. Now, she was thankful to him for giving her a workout in tongue-twisting truths and untruths. _If you can’t ask about a topic, then ask about its boundaries_.

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and _think_.

Darcy was somehow reminded of that puzzle Sarah had once told her about, of two doors with two guardians—one which always told the truth and the other always lied. One door leads to the right path and the other to failure or death. The challenge was to find a question that _will always have the same answer_ no matter which doorman it was asked to—and to know just _why_ they gave such an answer. Know that and you can find the truth.

This isn’t the same case, but the similarities were enough to get her started. _She got this_.

“If my clearance now was the one I had right on the week Loki was captured, if I ask to know about who revoked my clearance now, would the answer still be beyond my clearance?” Darcy finished.

She didn’t imagine the amusement in Jarvis’ tone, and that was how she knew she’d struck gold.

“It would still be beyond your clearance then, Miss Lewis.”

 _I’d bet my right arm it’s someone higher up from SHIELD_. Her old clearance was already pretty impressive, just a grade lower than Jane’s.

Darcy slung her bag behind her and approached Jane with more confidence than she felt. She pulled her headphone down and disconnected her direct call to Jarvis. Her voice was surprisingly even. “Jane, I’m sorry I have to bother you for a bit, but I have to go.”

Jane turned away from the screen, blinking several times, and the brunette knew she was having trouble leaving the detailed contours of space-time behind to return her presence to the lab.

 “Go? Where?”

“Nothing permanent,” Darcy said. At least, she _hoped_ it was nothing permanent. It wasn’t as if she can see the damned future. “I was just thinking of checking things out with Pepper, okay? About the paperwork that’s a mess? My ID card that doesn’t work?”

“I don’t think it’s Pepper’s business at all if it’s just paperwork. We’d probably get shuffled to deal with HR again,” Jane said with a frown. Her boss was a little more aware of things than Darcy would like.

“Well, yeah, but there’s also some other stuffs too I’d need to talk about with her, not just that.”

She didn’t feel comfortable telling Jane about her fears (paranoia) about SHIELD. All she had going for her was this sense of unease. After all, as earth’s foremost expert on the rainbow bridge, Jane was nowhere in danger. Unlike her, the replaceable assistant.

Things weren’t looking good for Disposable Darcy.

“Alright, take all the time you need.” Jane replied.

Darcy held back from sighing in obvious relief. “Thanks. See ya!”

“Sure.” The scientist gave a careless wave before she returned to her work.

Darcy kept her grin until she was out of the lab before she dropped it as if it was never there. There was no need to get Jane worrying—she had enough on her plate even now.

Once she was in the elevator, she allowed herself the luxury of leaning back and closing her eyes. She spoke out loud now, the subterfuge to hide her conversation topic was unnecessary once she was alone.

“So, Jarvis, am I still listed as an employee of Stark Industries, then?”

“You are.” The AI chimed from the elevator speakers.

“Is anyone,” she took a steadying breath as the words were caught in her throat with something that felt unexpectedly close to fear. Reality was starting to creep up on her. “Is anyone trying to take me into custody?”

“No warrant has been served with your name on them.”

“Thanks.” She breathed a little freer. Even if she wasn’t exactly running, she was certainly _hiding_. “Now, is there anyone from SHIELD out looking for me? Especially if they’re doing that with a partner instead of alone, or maybe in teams.”

She wasn’t a super soldier or an experienced spy. She was just Darcy Lewis, lab rat. She was _screwed_ if they were going in a team—that meant people are afraid of her, no matter how ridiculous it seems, and even humans lose any thought of reason when they’re panicking. She had heard about enough peaceful demonstration gone wrong to know that. She knew of enough protests that due to nerves of the young, inexperienced men holding the guns ends with gunfire. Silence fell in the elevator again and she knew that Jarvis was running through all his recent surveillance databanks as well as any paperwork that might be related.

“There are two SHIELD agents that are in Dr. Foster’s Lab.”

It was circumstantial, she knew, but her stomach just dropped to her knees at the news. It was not exactly instant doom but it was a bad ending, looking to find her. She buried her face in her hands and cursed.

“ _Fuck me gently with a chainsaw_.”

There was no _fucking_ way she was going to go down without a fight; not when she knew she didn’t do anything. She had an idea of where she wanted to go—now, it was only a question of _how_.

“Jarvis, can you help me find a clear path to where I want to go?”

“I thought you’d never ask, Ms. Lewis.”

‘-

Jarvis had conveniently side-stepped Pepper’s secretary as he rearranged her schedule to clear everything else right now. When Pepper picked up Jarvis’ call to her phone, her expression became harder for a split second.

Mr. Natsuki “Nate” Katsuyuki, Chief Financial Officer of Stark Industries found himself at the head of a meeting with the board members of another company in place of his CEO. He segued into it smoothly as if he’d foreseen this a week ago. It had helped that he was supposed to be in this meeting anyway and the Harvard business school graduate had always been an ambitious and over-prepared man—only a few years over thirty and already a CFO. This was precisely the reason why Pepper could trust him to take over.

On the third elevator that Darcy entered, Pepper was already there.

“I was going to say that you need to find Jane a new assistant,” Darcy said casually, “but she already had that covered with her team, right?”

“Darcy, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong! Everything’s _perfect!_ ” Pepper’s hand on her arm was steady, a piece of the real world she could held on to. Darcy cleared her throat, hoping to dispel the beginnings of hysteria that she thought was pouring into her voice. She took a deep breath to centre herself, pressed the buttons for her apartment floor and leaned back against the wall at right angles to Pepper.

“My clearance is suddenly zero-ed.” Darcy stated. “SHIELD is looking for me, I’m worried that they’d want to take me away _and I don’t even know why_.”

Darcy’s voice had risen slightly in pitch despite her best efforts. Her brown eyes pleaded Pepper for something to make sense of the sudden craziness in her life. The slightest twitch of Pepper’s fingers was missed by the assistant (only Tony was that observant when it comes to Pepper), as was the flash of _something_ in her eyes.

“I am not informed of this either.” Pepper’s voice had the levelness of a frozen lake. “Rest assured that I’ll get into the bottom of this—”

Darcy sighed. She rubbed her forehead with the tips of her fingers.

“I don’t want to bring trouble for you guys either. If this is really a witch hunt, then you need to lay me off right now. Say that I had resigned a few days ago and I’ll be out of your hair in a second—”

“Out of the question.”

“You don’t know how bad this is going to get.” Darcy pointed out.

“I don’t think they have as much ground as they think they have.” Pepper stated, steel in her reply.

“Really? I don’t even know _why_ they—” she paused midsentence. Realisation lit Darcy’s expression—Pepper had been annoyed, but she wasn’t surprised. “Wait, you _know_. You _know_ why they were looking for me, don’t you? That’s why you’re planning to face them down?”

“I can only suspect a few things but I don’t know for sure,” she replied, choosing her words with care. Darcy eyed her sceptically. Pepper’s _guess_ was better than the average person’s _knowledge_.

“ _Pepper_ …”

Pepper sighed. “They don’t trust your familiarity with Loki.”

Surprisingly, the answer calmed her down a little. _This_ was something she’d faced before. _This_ she knew. “Then you _can’t_ stand in the way. This could easily get political and I’m not letting anyone bring Stark Industries down using me.”

Darcy raised a hand to stall any upcoming objections. Now that it was pointed out to her, she was reeling with the perspective she could understand quickly.

“You know that’s true. There’s a lot of concessions, patents, _technology_ that anyone would be glad to get from Stark Industries for free. Don’t tell me that an agency wouldn’t push for more access.” She said this with a snort.

“We might be in the US, but I wouldn’t put it past anyone to try nationalising SI.”

Pepper shook her head. “No politician is going to allow that. It smacks too much of _socialism_ and the voters will have their hide. We know how much of a scare word it still is.”

“Nothing as bad as nationalisation, maybe, but it doesn’t mean they can’t seize individual projects—especially if they can play the angle that SI had been _unpatriotic_. Or that you’re endangering American interests.” Darcy finished.

Fear, uncertainty and doubt (FUD) could always be relied to bring a politician to office, especially ones that looked commanding and had a sellable us-vs-them rhetoric. This was regardless of what his actual track record and competence says. People like a clear-cut morality play in uncertain times; she’d read enough studies about it to be jaded.

“If you don’t fire me, I swear I’ll just take off by myself.” Darcy said. “I’ll resign.”

Pepper was sceptical. “And where would you go? You’re not seriously thinking of avoiding them on your own? You’re not going to last a week against them.”

“Wanna bet?” She challenged.

Darcy was feeling belligerent and there was more bravado than certainty in that question. Pepper didn’t call her out on it, but neither was she paying attention. Her arms were folded in front of her chest, brows furrowed in complete concentration and her gaze was far into the distance.

“Look, there really is no question that I can’t stay here. As long as SHIELD can get me, they can get anyone around me—”

“That’s it.”

Pepper’s voice was soft, but the confidence in it was unmistakable. Darcy stared at her in confusion. There was a calmness to her now where the tension had been before. She hadn’t even noticed that Pepper was tense until the rigidity vanished just now.

“What?”

“You’re right. We’re getting you out.”

Darcy snorted. “Oh, so _now_ you agree with me?”

The smile on Pepper’s face was just a tad unsettling. It gave her the same feeling as a glimpse of raptor tail would in Jurassic Park. Some primitive mammalian part of her was insisting that they should really, _really_ run. Like, _now_. Or find a very tall tree and keep climbing until you’ve left everything far, far behind you. When Pepper spoke up again, her voice was bright and _perky_.

“You’ve just found us a solution. Now, Darcy, do you remember about that job offer I gave you the last time around? This is not _exactly_ that, but I’ve been thinking that you’d fit into it very well and I’ve talked to some people.”

Darcy felt the ground drop from under her. “ _Talked_ to some people?”

Pepper didn’t seem to notice her shrill tone and went on.

“It’s time to brush up on your negotiation and networking skills…”

‘-

Pepper was on the phone, coordinating paperwork of several teams at once while Darcy grabbed her overnight bag from her apartment and shoved a few more clothes into it. At first, Darcy thought she was merely contacting the legal department. But when the phone calls got longer and the topic broader, she had no idea what Pepper was aiming for at all.

Maybe it was because she only heard one side of the conversation.

“Oh yes, believe me Madam Secretary, she is eminently suited for this. She has been our liaison for the Asgardian team as well during that last fracas in the southwest… Dr. Foster? Oh, _she_ couldn’t be one because she has her own work to do. It is unreasonable to expect her to handle everything, not to mention that she is more _scientist_ than anything else. The candidate whose bio I forwarded was also part of the London team during the other adventures across the pond… yes, she has… yes, do you know she has good rapport with _both_ royalties? Yes, I _know_ , not easily imaginable is it?”

Darcy was surprised at some of the clothing items that Pepper passed. She didn’t argue because there’s still a bit more space in her bag, anyway. She froze for a moment as she began piecing together the many, diverse topics of Pepper’s conversation she’d heard until now.

_That wasn’t the Secretary of State, right? Right??_

“I regret to take this up to you on such a short notice, but I’m afraid the technicalities of activating an Einstein-Rosen Bridge is beyond my knowledge. The thaumaturgical batteries Tony Stark and Dr. Strange have installed would help, but their precise ebb and flow eludes me too. It’s just that everything came together, today you see, and I’m just glad that we’ve had all those meetings before now to get most of the paperwork talked over. Formalising them will be quick.”

They marched out of her apartment, took the emergency stairs two flights down before taking the lift; Jarvis had informed them that someone was flagging all elevator stops on her floor. Pepper was _still_ on the phone, though she had shifted it to her other hand, speaking at a fast pace to whoever it was on the other side. They marched quickly to the elevator, taking care not to look like they were running, and slipped in at the first open one.

Before Darcy could punch the buttons for the basement parking lot, Pepper stopped her with a hand on her wrist. To Darcy’ surprise, she shook her head and pressed a different floor.

_Wait, what was that?_

“I thought I was going _out_?” Darcy mouthed.

Pepper only smiled and nodded.

‘-

A young paralegal waited in front of the elevator the moment they arrived on the 42nd floor. It didn’t seem like this was one of the office floors, more like one of the lab floors. He handed them a pile of documents. Pepper thanked him, skimmed some of them, and then handed them _all_ to Darcy without an explanation.

“What’s this? Where are we?”

“Your new job description, some administrative details, background readings…you know, the usual? Come on, if what Jarvis told us is true, we don’t have enough time. Your transport awaits.” Pepper didn’t need to say that the people that was after Darcy was closing in on them. She stalked forward quickly, and Darcy had to break out into a small run to keep up with her. Not an easy job when she also had a bag to carry.

“What do you mean _new job?_ ”

The redhead turned slightly and gave her a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, you’re trained for this. I have the utmost faith in you, Darcy.”

“ _Pepper—_ ”

A pair of large steel doors opened up for them with a flash of Pepper’s access card. Darcy gaped at the cavernous ceiling and the way the air spread out. It wasn’t the constricted box that the elevator was, or even the average hallway. The space was immense. This wasn’t a _floor_. This was several floors joined as one. Darcy gaped.

 _What’s this…a hangar? Stark Tower has a_ hangar _inside it??_

“Pepper, why are you here? Not that I’m complaining about it at all, _always_ happy to have you here and—oh, _hello Velma_ , you’re here too? What brought this about?”

Tony Stark turned away from the console he was standing in front of. The place felt too quiet to Darcy and she found out why soon enough. It was too _empty_. Other than them, there was only the dark head of another woman bent at the console to her left, apparently working on the other end of the gigantic machine from Tony. Pepper had waved to the woman and she waved back, an enigmatic smile on her face.

Spread all around her were…scrolls? Papers? She had to draw back at that. It was unexpected in a place of high-technology. Scrolls in more than one alphabet, half of which she recognised as runes and the others were completely beyond her. Thankfully the papers around them seemed to be translations of said scroll, if the way Tony kept going back and forth between a scroll and a paper was any indication.

Why someone would study ancient languages in a lab struck her as incongruous for a moment—that is, until Darcy noticed that the floor and even the consoles were etched with runes she couldn’t read. Some of them were already glowing. The woman even stood up and typed on the console more than once now.

There was no doubt that Tony and the woman were working on a single machine, if the cables running to-and-fro was any clue as well as the single, sinuous background hum of the room.

_And let’s not forget the frickin’ metal archway everything is connected to!_

Its two sides loomed tall like a pair of sore dragon teeth against the New York skyline, curving and narrowing to meet high up in the middle, high enough that Darcy couldn’t see the details. It was only an archway the way the Arc de Triomphe was an archway. In fact, it was less like an archway and more like a—

Sparks flew from one side of the metal gate to the other and her skin prickled with the static electricity in the air.

Darcy gulped. _More like something that can punch a hole in the world_.

“We’ve got an emergency right now, Tony. Darcy needs to _leave_.”

There was a special emphasis that she placed on the last word. Tony took one glance at Darcy, quickly taking in her running shoes and overnight bag. Something lit up in his eyes.

“Shit. It was that bad?”

“It was.” Pepper answered.

“We’re activating sooner than expected, aren’t we?” Another voice asked. There was a foreign lilt to her voice, the ghost of an accent that her ears couldn’t quite catch.

The unknown woman had approached them by now, flawless olive skin and the perfect line of her nose convinced Darcy that she could’ve been named Cleopatra and it couldn’t be more apt. The way she kept her shiny dark hair in a shoulder length bob perfected the impression. Tony turned to her with an aggravated look.

“I hate it when I’m right—don’t say it, Robin. Really, _don’t_.” Tony sighed. “Darcy Lewis, this is archaeologist Nicolette Robin, our rune and weird-scrolls specialist who handles whatever stuff Strange comes up with from his travels. Robin, this is Darcy Lewis, political scientist and Jane Foster’s assistant. She makes one of the best coffees I’ve ever tasted too.”

“I prefer _philologist_ , actually. Much more romantic,” Robin corrected. “I suppose I _am_ a trained archaeologist and I can and do go on digs, but my primary interest will always be dead languages. I also studied natural language processing and teaching neural networks to parse natural grammar.”

Darcy accepted her hand in a handshake easily even if she didn’t quite understand all of her explanation. The woman’s calm and collected demeanour washed over her like a soothing blanket.

“That’s also why she’s also assessing the code,” Tony said. “Because apparently, some of what Strange sent over could even be considered as _programs_.”

“Algorithms.” Robin interjected.

“No,” Tony insisted. “I remember there were those programs you showed me—”

“I showed it to you precisely because they were _exceptional._ Most of it are still only algorithms, Tony, generalised and thus—”

Their back and forth went on for a few more sentence that Darcy followed with wide eyes (seriously, she never really got into the foundations of computer science that much, she just put the codes to work!) Pepper thankfully coughed into her hand and broke them off not long after that.

“Nice to meet you, Robin.”

Robin smiled. “Likewise. Now, all you have to do is wait here while we activate the Bifrost and we’re ready to go.”

“Wait, did you say _Bifrost?_ ” Darcy’s hated the squeak in her voice.

If she hadn’t been panicking before, she certainly was now. Pepper stepped up to her, a comforting hand on her arm again.

“Yes, we’re counting on you, Darce.”

And as she said that, Tony and Robin had separated back to the consoles on either side, both of them occasionally adding orders and requests to Jarvis as well. Between the three of them, the humming in the room increased until Darcy was certain she could feel it at the back of her teeth. Several glowing lines streaked up the great metal arcs, and after a while she could see letters shining out from them as well. _Runes_.

Even as she watched them work, she was still partly numb in shock about what would happen to her in several moments. Everything still didn’t feel real enough. She wasn’t a jet-setting super spy; she shouldn’t have to flee a country with men in black at her heels!

“You still haven’t said anything! What are you counting on me _for?_ ” Darcy asked Pepper. The panicked note still hadn’t left her voice.

Pepper leaned close to say something quietly to Darcy’s ear and her eyes widened. She wanted to protest, to complain and say that escape was one thing, but this was too much. From the proud look on Pepper’s face, it was clear that she wouldn’t believe it, but it didn’t mean that Darcy wouldn’t try to dissuade her. She had only opened her mouth when there was a crackle of speakers in the air and clanging knocks on the metal doors.

 _There’s no time_ , Darcy thought, adrenaline making her feel jittery all the way to her toes.

The people who were looking for her were here. Unexpectedly, Darcy saw Jane arguing and standing in the way of the tall agent before she turned around and saw her assistant.

“Darcy!”

“Miss Lewis, we would like you to come with us for—”

Pepper pushed her forward as the really scary sparks flickering across the arcs disappeared into a more consistent spread of colourful light. Now _this_ looked familiar.

Pepper Potts strode back quickly to converse with whoever-it-was on the other side of the doorway, probably using her not insignificant grace to hold them back. Darcy heard more than saw Robin stepping away from her chair, probably to back Pepper up at cutting off the agents. Darcy’s heart was banging in her throat, her hands were clammy and she thought that Pepper was making a _really big_ mistake here. She strode forward. She could hear the steps of someone approaching—not close enough.

“Darcy!” It was Jane, of course.

“I’m sorry I can’t stay! I really am!” Darcy shouted.

Her friend was running towards her, still half a room away. The broody agent that she had met in the lab before pushed Robin roughly to the side—he didn’t even manage three steps away before he fell, apparently tripping on nothing. That quirk of a smile on Robin’s face informed her that it was not a coincidence. Somehow. Even if the archaeologist hadn’t moved an inch from where she was, with straight back and arms casually folded in front of her.

Jane was the only one who was free to keep running towards her.

“You don’t have to leave!” Jane said. “We’re in this together!”

That was so like Jane that Darcy couldn’t help but smile, still walking towards the flickering arch. “All Fellowships get dissolved sooner or later, Janey.”

“Even Frodo had _Sam_ ,” Jane pointed out.

“And you’re more like Elrond or Galadriel. You have your own people to lead now, Janey. I mean, _damn_ , I certainly couldn’t imagine it when we were breathing dust day in, day out in Puente Antiguo.” Darcy had to stop and bite her lips because she was _not_ going to break down now. Nope.

“We’ve come far, haven’t we?” Jane’s voice was almost a whisper.

The agent on the floor tried to get up only to trip over something else and fall again. If he was a medusa, his cold glares would’ve turned Darcy to stone at this point. Robin’s smile as she stared at him was sphinx-like.

“I swear we’ll meet again, Janey. This isn’t the end, you hear me?”

The physicist closed her arms around her and she hugged back just as tightly. Darcy took a deep breath and tried to fix the lily-and-ozone scent in her mind, along with the less defined sweetness that was simply Jane. She bumped against Jane’s collarbones at one point and couldn’t stop thinking that her friend hadn’t been eating enough _again_.

The thought was so mundane it was almost comforting.

“Do you really have to do this?” Jane asked. Worry etched fine lines on her face.

“Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

Slowly, they let go of each other, Jane’s eyes never hers until she turned around. She didn’t say goodbye. She never wanted to say goodbye to anyone. Darcy approached the portal her friends had opened, blinking back the blurriness in her eyes.

 _Friends_ , she thought dazedly, thinking back to her thoughts. She had very dedicated _friends_. She’d never quite realised it until now, had always thought that she was alone in New York apart from Jane, but it wasn’t quite true, was it? It was an exhilarating feeling. Just like the realisation of what her new job was going to be, from now on.

Pepper’s voice might just be above a whisper, but its echoes still rang loud in her head.

“ _Darcy,_ _You’re going to cross over and be the ambassador of the United States to Asgard_.”

 _Apparently, that old saying was true_ , she thought to herself, resolutely not trying to think about the hairs rising on the back of the arm. the faint sizzles of electricity that was uncomfortably close and that one odd instance of an actual zap. The connection was made and Darcy was swallowed within it in a final step.

 _When one door closes, another opens_.

‘-

## End of Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Details for the mythologically-oriented:
> 
> **_Tyr_ :** “God of Justice” and Order and Martial Law, the King Regnant over Alfheim. 
> 
> Aha, I could hear people saying “what the hell??” over that statement. Story-wise, this is more than enough to go on. But if you really want to know more, read the longer notes, because I need to get into the guts of my readings to explain that.
> 
>  ** _Vethrfölnir_ :** Actually originally written as Veðrfölnir, I decided to randomly keep the umlaut because, heck, I kept it for Jötunn and Jötunheim, why not for Veth’s name? To quote Prose Edda about the Yggdrasil: 
>
>> “An eagle sits at the top of the ash, and it has knowledge of many things. Between its eyes sits the hawk called Vethrfölnir” 
> 
> Basically that's his only presence in mythology. Since waiting on the Yggdrasil has that timeless feel to it, I decided to make the Hawk a genius primordialis. Now he Watches in Flight over the paths of the World Tree.
> 
>  ** _Vidopnir_ :** Either Víðópnir or Víðófnir. According to _Fjölsvinnsmál_ , is a rooster that sits at the top of Mímameiðr, a tree often taken to be identical with the World Tree Yggdrasil. Like Veth, he has that ‘suspended in time’ feel, so I turned him into yet another one bound to a greater spirit (as a result, he also gets increasingly dissociated from his people who are living on our more mundane plane).
> 
> '-
> 
> More of this Glossary Stuff:
> 
> **_Algorithm_ :** (Mathematics and Computer Science) a set of operations to be performed. The difference between an _algorithm_ and a _program_ is that a program is a set of operations written to be performed in a particular programming language. It’s not programming language agnostic (neutral) anymore the way an algorithm still is. 
> 
> **_Natural language processing (NLP)_ :** (computer science, computational linguistics, AI studies and research). One of the main challenges in NLP is to make computers able to understand (or parse) a natural language with its degree of imprecision and multiplicity of meanings, unlike the logically structured programming language that a computer is used to.
> 
>  ** _Philology_ :** The study of language in written historical sources (Wikipedia). Basically, the work is a combination of textual & language analysis with literary criticism. It usually involves making sure of their authenticity, the original form, probable age (based on stylistic information and thus comparison with other works of more certain dates) and meaning. Not actually an often-used term these days.
> 
>  ** _Strong nuclear force_ :** (physics) One of the four fundamental forces of our universe. We’re usually only aware of the two that operates on the human scale; electromagnetism & gravity. The strong nuclear force & the weak nuclear force operate on the scale of an atom’s core. Ever wondered how protons can sit tight in a nucleus when they’re all positively charged and should repel each other? Well, the strong nuclear force is the answer, folks! Obviously works only at extremely short distance.
> 
> '-
> 
> Even More Details for the mythologically-oriented:
> 
> Veth’s liege lord is one he keeps calling the Eagle, also a reference to that eagle on whose forehead the hawk is supposed to be sitting on.
> 
> As most of the dominant members of the Norse pantheon with enough records surviving to the present day has an animal identified with them, of course I would identify the Eagle with someone too. Which bring us to:
> 
>  **Tyr** , “God of Justice” and Order and Martial Law, the King Regnant over Alfheim.
> 
> Why I ended up constructing it this way is this: let me refer you to Turville-Peter’s _Myth and Religion of the North_. Considering that Tyr is also a sky god, he has domains that overlap with Odinn or Thor, and it’s hard to imagine that he’s worshipped simultaneously. In the part about gods whose cults has faded away in the time, Tyr is named among them. 
> 
> I thought it would actually make sense if he was neither Aesir nor Vanir but came before them. 
> 
> Of the Aesir and Vanir we have more records on, and Turville-Petre put forth parallels between the story of the Æsir-Vanir war and the Irish tales of the two battles of Mag Tured. There are parallelisms between Tyr and Nuadu of the Silver Hand of the Tuatha de Danaan, the same way there are parallels between Odin (blind in one eye, expert magic-wielder) with Lug with his magic and closed eye. So, Alfheim it is.
> 
> Send further questions in the comments!


	32. XXXII. Peregrination 1 (New Places)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Darcy’s not in Kansas anymore. Freya flits by and Darcy is swept up with her. The hospitality industry must be making a killing in Asgard right now. Darcy meets new people and is assigned a handmaiden. Darcy looks for lunch and stumbles upon something else. Literally._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have less than four full-chapter buffer between this and where I'm writing right now. Feeling more than a little antsy because of it. Will probably upload the next chapter within a week of this one, as they both establish this new place we're in.
> 
> To the readers who had read the previous chapter very quickly - yep, I edited into the end of Part 2. We're in Part 3 now. Might as well do it with the change in venue.
> 
> Also, when I checked the word count, apparently this yet another long chapter? *headdesks* I'm _so_ sorry. I promise the next two aren't as bad.

## Part 3 - Substance of the Ambitious

### XXXII. Peregrination 1 (New Places) 

It was hard to explain how it feels to step on the Bifrost. There were too many images and impressions for Darcy to easily sort through. If she just decided to take them all as true, that would make even less sense as some outright contradicted each other.

_Stars_ were the first word that would come to mind, though. _It is like stepping on a river of stars_ , one that bore the traveller from end to end as star systems and planets, miles, nay, light-years, pass in a blink. She thought she heard snippets of a song, oddly familiar even as the tune escapes her as a whole (a jig? No, a _reel._ At least she thought it was). There was a tree that spans worlds and a well under it. Yet she had also seen skies, many of them. There were pale ones like the lightest of opals, sunset-red, a blazing orange that _wasn’t_ a sunset and an unexpected purpleness before she stumbled on her feet, landing at the edge of a golden city gleaming under a brilliant blue sky. A steadying hand on her arm caught her before she fell face first on the pristine floor.

_I swear that gravity hates me_.

Darcy vaguely noticed calm amber eyes by her side, but her vision was still swimming too much. She tried to ask something but promptly closed her mouth again before she vomited on someone’s face.

She tipped her head sideways and puked her stomach out.

“Where am I?”

The tall warrior in golden armour helped her up with barely any effort. “Welcome to Asgard, Darcy Lewis of Midgard.”

She didn’t even have enough time to say anything else when another flash of light manifested. Woozily trying to stand, the sourness of bile hasn’t even left her mouth when she crashed into someone else. To be more precise, someone’s breasts had just smacked her in the face, at which her legs decided that they have had enough excitement for one day and promptly collapsed under her.

Darcy was staring upwards in disbelief, her gaze almost magnetically drawn to source of her fall. _Seriously, those boobs can’t be real_. They were even bigger than hers and she was wearing a dress whose cleavage went all the way down.

_How does that dress even stay up in the first place? Alright, eyes back up, Lewis!_

Standing in front of her was a tall, voluptuous woman with wheat gold hair falling to her waist, extending a helping hand that Darcy didn’t even think twice before taking. Her ochre skin was flawless in a way that would be hard to believe without a Hollywood skincare regimen, her expression friendly.

“My apologies, young one. I’m afraid I was in a rush.”

Most of her entourage were Beautiful People that would not be out of place as celebrities in Hollywood…or an elven host passing through a dark forest; human onlookers will wonder whether they were dreaming. Darcy was trying hard not to think about their perfect dresses and clothes, with intricate details that were shot with gold could be visible from farther away and the sweet smell of the flowers decorating her hair. It was a far cry from Darcy’s rumpled self and stinking of vomit.

“Oh, it’s alright! It’s my fault too, sorry. I’ve just arrived and I was just about ready to fall down. Still not used to the Bifrost, you see.” _Don’t smile too wide, Darce! You don’t want to look like a maniac, do you?_

“Ah, I _knew_ I couldn’t recognise you at all! I was afraid I’ve forgotten one of my nieces and wondered whether I’ve missed a birth or several. Well, this certainly changes things. Heimdall, if you please?”

“Lady Freya, this is Lady Darcy Lewis of Midgard. Lady Darcy, this is Lady Freya of Vanaheim.”

_Shit. Freya? Wasn’t she like, one of those people known as gods??_

Even as her brain was spazzing out on her, Darcy did a passable curtsy. “Pleased to meet you, Lady Freya.”

Oh, who was she kidding? From the way some of the shining peeps behind Freya sniffed or furrowed their brows, Darcy knew she was probably screwing up. Oh, what the _hell_ , she couldn’t care less for now. She can always refine it later.

Some others seemed to be totally okay with her. They also tend to be the ladies with the more outrageous necklines and guys with a more swashbuckling edge to their clothing tastes. And cutaways and other strategically placed holes, like that lady that was flaunting her navel ring. And holy shit, she could see the washboard abs on that one guy whose shirt was so sheer that it barely made any difference that he was wearing any.

Freya seems completely unperturbed.

“Ooh, a _Midgardian!_ We haven’t had a new visitor in _ages!_ ” She clapped her hands together in glee and swept Darcy in her wake, arm-in-arm (and side-boob to side-boob, even, but Darcy’s definitely _not_ complaining on that count).

She didn’t even seem to be fazed by the way Darcy had to lean on her at times in a daze, as her nausea hadn’t completely disappeared.

“Really?”

“Yes, _really_. Please, just call me Freya, and you must tell me _everything_ of your land, Darcy. I haven’t been there in at least two _centuries_!”

Centuries, _right_. Darcy had to hold back a snort because it really _wasn’t_ unbelievable. She tottered on her leg a little but it affected Freya not a jot. There was strength in her bones, and muscle under all her curves and the scent of lilies and mint wasn’t actually too bad in making her feel better.

“Who was the last person here, anyway? Have you ever had an American before?”

“Well, there’s Bragi, but he’s been here for so long it does not matter. The last hero I can recall is Sigmund, and perhaps Eirik… Oh, never you mind. I’m sure it’s not that important. You are _American_ , you say? I’ve never heard of such a country before. Travel with us and _do_ tell us about your stories.”

As nice as Freya was, her tone was that of a woman used to exercising her power—Darcy was sure her offer wasn’t exactly one. She helplessly looked back at Heimdall, who wore an inscrutable smile on his face and seemed to bid her a good journey with only a nod. She nodded back. Her luggage was nowhere to be found and she could only guess that someone had picked it up.

Well, it wasn’t like it was a bad idea to hobnob early, or with someone as friendly as Freya.

“Where should I start? Well, I’m sure you know of the Scandinavian countries, right? Those are like, the countries with the most myth about you guys. So, they’re in the northern part of Europe, a continent. To the west of that…”

The ladies closest to Freya were downright serene, humouring their liege’s enthusiasm with only the smallest of smiles or just a fleeting twinkle in their eyes. Yet it was hard to shake that tingling between her shoulder blades that told her someone was staring at her with annoyance. She tried to shrug it away because dammit, it wasn’t her fault if Freya wanted to talk to her.

She didn’t need to be an oracle to prophesise that there would be more toes she would step on in the future.

‘-

Darcy blinked when she saw that they had stopped at a stable. The place was so fine that she had mistaken it for an inn at first, then the double doors opened with a distinct smell of hay and she realised where they were. She was rooted to at the entrance in surprise. Her luggage had been restored to her at this point and laid at her feet.

“Horses?” Her voice was embarrassingly rising in pitch.

Freya shrugged. “Of course. We could not be expected to enter Asgard on foot, could we? The journey will be unaccountably long and far more boring.”

“Um. I’m not used to riding.”

“Do you have no horses in your estate?” One of the men in Freya’s company stared at Darcy in disbelief. Underneath that, she thought she could saw condescension.

It took some effort to keep her mild expression on. _Well,_ _so_ sorry _that I’m part of the 99%, dude. I don’t have a damned estate. Most people on earth don’t_. “On earth, we’ve invented other things for transportation. We have cars, um, metal carriages that can be left in the garage, err, stables for days and weeks on end. They’re only taken out and given fuel when in use, we don’t have to feed them when we’re not riding them.”

“Efficient,” Freya nodded.

“A carriage is still not as manoeuvrable as a horse,” the man said.

  _No, we use cross-country bikes for that_ , Darcy thought to herself but didn’t say. “Well, it’s not the _only_ form of ride either.”

“Here, Lady Darcy, please take this.”

One of Freya’s handmaidens had brought her the reins of a bay mare, which the Vanir was now trying to pass to Darcy. Darcy cleared her throat in trepidation.

“Isn’t it a bit too big?”

She could hear chuckles around her, someone murmuring “that’s what she said” under his breath (that one she didn’t mind—no, really), and some of the laughter weren’t even good-natured or the occasional whispers (now _that_ got on her nerves). Freya stared at her thoughtfully.

“The mare, you mean? Oh, you’re right. You _are_ small, aren’t you? I am certain there is something more suitable for your size.”

‘-

_Was this supposed to be better than a_ car _?_

Darcy groused, ungracefully bobbing up and down on a smaller roan mare while trying to keep her focus on what Freya was saying. The brisk air that had nipped her cheeks when she first arrived was barely noticeable now that she was sweating a little from the exertion. The fact that she was still going in a straight line was a testament to her mare’s good sense in keeping up with the other horses than to Darcy’s non-existent horsemanship. She’d tried it once before in a friend’s farm and figured out how to keep her ass on the saddle but that was about it.

Most people would be content knowing that they would enter Asgard as part of Freya’s entourage. The closer they were to the golden domes of the gleaming city, the more nervous Darcy became.

Oh, she had nothing against Freya. She was glad that someone was already friendly to her, for one. It would certainly make the days a lot more bearable. But if she wasn’t hallucinating the words that Pepper had said right before giving her a final push, she was to be an _ambassador_. People don’t care that you’re still a n00b at the job. And ambassadors, no matter how human, stinky and fallible they are, are always scrutinised as a representative of their country.

Darcy didn’t miss that Heimdall had introduced Freya as _Lady Freya of Vanaheim_ , and as her conversations with Thor had told her, that was still _not_ Asgard or the greater Asaheim. She really didn’t know a lot about Norse mythology (and once more she found herself missing Sarah, who was always taking all those mythology classes with the inexplicable zeal of one haunted). Sarah would’ve been more suited to be here than her. 

_But you’re the one here instead, aren’t you? Just suck it up and get on with the program, Lewis_.

It would’ve been nice if she could access the internet here and send email to her, though.

So, _focus_. Freya was from Vanaheim instead of Asgard. Even if Thor called everyone an _áss_ (singular for Aesir—yes, _really_ ), she was pretty sure the Vanir didn’t always used to be part of the same group. _I mean, wasn’t there an Aesir-Vanir war once?_ Thor didn’t even mention it at all. There doesn’t even seem to be that much distinction made between the two from his stories that perhaps it was something long past that no one cared about.

_And yet…_

It still nagged her. Darcy’s political instinct wouldn’t just let it rest like that, not until she knew more.

So, if she, Ambassador of the United States entered Asgard in the company of the Vanir, it could be easily construed as overtures to an alliance between the two, at the very least, or her being in the pockets of Vanaheim already, at worst. And yet her main focus here was obviously Asgard first before anywhere else.

Fortunately for her, Asgard had outgrown its older city walls that were considered to be Asgard ‘proper’. No matter that the road had widened with stores to her left and right, they weren’t in Asgard yet. She knew this because she had asked one of Freya’s primary handmaidens that were always to her left and right (Lady Gefin, if she wasn’t mistaken). Darcy waited for a convenient pause in the conversation.

 “Lady Freya?”

“Just Freya, please.”

“Alright, Freya, thank you very much for the company and help. I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave for now. Don’t worry, we’ll meet again in Asgard! I just have to run some errands first.”

“Really? What could be so important for you to willingly part company from our lady?”

Darcy turned to see that _guy_ again, the one who was a bit snippy about horses.

“I smell like a toilet from all the travel and puking,” she said flatly. “If you think the way I look now is _really great_ to meet the Head Honcho, _Le Fromage Grand_ , Allfather Odin in without freshening myself up, I hold you responsible for the introduction between us and any shitstorm that could ensue. How about _that_ , dude?”

From the way he automatically paled, she guessed the answer was a resounding _no_. From the way some of the more delicate ladies looked offended, she was probably too crass for their tastes. _It’s_ _too damn bad you just have to deal with it, peeps_.

Unexpectedly, Freya laughed.

“You will always be welcomed to our quarters, Darcy. It need not concern you.”

Darcy shook her head with a smile. “Oh, I’ll drop in later, make no mistakes about that. It’s just that there’s still a line between hanging out and freeloading, get what I mean? And Momma Lewis don’t raise no freeloaders. Thank you for your concern, but I can manage just this much.”

She was laying the country charm a bit thick there, but Freya raised her hand to stop any of her entourage to say more. “I understand, Darcy Lewis. Should you enter any establishment and encounter trouble, you need only say that you are a guest of Freya. Take Bludna with you and think no more of it.”

Darcy stopped herself from trying to get down. “But—”

“She is yours to use for as long as you are here.” Freya said easily. “Unless you have need to travel further? I can easily gift her to you if that is what you need—”

“No, it’s perfect!” Darcy yelped before she would be saddled with the horse permanently, “Borrowing her is _perfect_.”

The goddess smiled, her point made. She bowed on her seat, something Darcy struggled to reply to but stubbornly managed (how she hadn’t toppled over, she had no idea, probably because Bludna was smarter than her rider).

“May we meet again, Darcy Lewis.”

“May we meet again, Lady Freya.”

‘-

Darcy gingerly rode on Bludna down polished cobblestone streets that were too evenly-sized and circular to be real—and unlike most medieval road work, she could actually see signs of there being real sewers there. Being Jane’s assistant in England meant visiting Cambridge and Oxford too ( _of course_ ), and seeing what medieval England called sewers (open, sometimes in the _middle_ of the road) was enough for her to morbidly wonder what the stink was like then.

At times, Asgard gave her the vague impression of travelling to one of those picturesque little towns in the Swiss cantons or some place in northern Europe, but the people were too stupidly beautiful to be true (she called it ‘stupid’ because the perfection seemed almost unnatural and annoyed the heck out of her). Of course, the clean and well-dressed citizens occasionally stared at her like they’ve just seen a three-headed llama. It was a good thing she was thick-skinned and didn’t really give a damn if she looked like roadkill. She was here, breathing the fresh, slightly-cold air that was slowly making her nose numb if she didn’t rub it once in a while, and yet no one’s going to imprison her in a small room in a legal limbo where people would eventually forget about her.

That was always a good thing on her books.

Unlike the smaller towns of Europe, the way the street curved gently at a constant rate instead of turning in a hodgepodge way from random building placement spoke of meticulous city planning. Jane probably had a mathematical term for it that she could never remember.

The whole damn thing probably looked like a seashell growing or a _flower_ blooming or something just as pretty from above. _Stupid perfect Asgardians and their stupidly perfect city_ , she groused. No wonder they generally thought that earth was backwater.

Her best solution to cleaning herself up was to get out of the greater Asgard area and back into the edges of the forest again to look for a river. She knew it sounded stupid in her head and it _still_ wouldn’t sound much better if she said it out loud. Yet she was pretty sure that Asgardian inns and taverns won’t accept the US dollar as currency, so who cares? There’s definitely a passable change of clothes in her bag too.

At least, that was her plan until at one point near to the outskirts; a girl of around twelve had gotten hold of her reins and pulled Bludna to the side.

“Whoa, hold it kiddo. Where are you going?”

Her braids flew around as she faced Darcy. “To the inn. You were looking for an inn, were you not? You’re lucky we still have a few rooms reserved for special guests. With all the visitors coming in, you wouldn’t be able to find a decent room in just a few days. So many people are coming in this month.”

The rush of words mostly flew over Darcy’s head.

“I just came in today. I don’t have any Asgardian money yet, kid.”

She was staring at Darcy down her cute button nose as if she was slow, _the little_ _brat_. “Why don’t you have any Asgardian money?”

“Midgardian ‘ere.  Look, won’t your parents wouldn’t mind if I _don’t_ pay?”

“Why would you need to?” Her cherubic face was confused now and Darcy stared at her in disbelief.

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Finna. What’s _yours?_ ”

“Darcy. Seriously, I gotta ask, are inns free in Asgard?”

She shook her head with vehemence. “Of course not!”

“Well, then I _can’t_ go to your parents’ inn, I don’t have any money to pay!” She threw her hands in the air. _Sheesh, was it that hard?_ The little girl’s cornflower blue eyes widened in understanding and she shook her head.

“Oh, you thought _you_ had to _pay_.” Finna was staring at Darcy with that annoying know-it-all look again. “Of course not. I recognise Bludna here, see? Anyone riding her is a guest of Lady Freya’s. All guests of Lady Freya can stay in our place for free—they’re _our_ special guests. The lady has taken care of everything.”

_Drat_.

So there was a reason Freya refused her attempt to return the horse. Darcy couldn’t have rejected her offer flat out without seeming to reject her hospitality—and you’re _nuts_ to reject the hospitality of one of the so-called gods. It would’ve been offensive, even; were you asking for a _curse?_ She sighed. Might as well go with the flow for now. It didn’t mean that Darcy wouldn’t be thinking hard of what gift she could come up with for Freya to even up the balance between them (trying to pay back the cost of the inn would just be too gauche).

As an anthropology professor of hers would say, no gifts are free from repercussions or ties. She had the gut feeling that Freya was very aware of that.

‘-

The inn was a comfortable two-story building with that distinct old-world charm.

Darcy had taken a bath, changed her clothes and decided to go downstairs to fill her stomach. She decided against wearing a dress on the basic principle that she was in foreign territory and that comes with great odds for ‘shit happens’. She chose a black pair of passably-formal jeans to go along with her Nikes and picked a blazer as a concession to looking more formal than usual. She did wince a little when she saw that the only matching blazer she had was that black, job-interview thing, but she supposed most Asgardians wouldn’t know that, right? Right. She was tempted to wear the one Loki made, but she didn’t know how many people could spot his signature outright. Maybe there were some magic vibes to it that other magicians can detect. Whichever way, it was a big no-no for now.

She wasn’t a superhero who could fight her way through monsters, so the least she could do was to run away very fast when shit hits the fan—and she can’t very well do that in a dress, could she?

Finna spotted Darcy the moment she went down the stairs and rushed to her with all the zeal of a terrier. The kid had taken her hand and lead her to a table before the brunette could even decide where to sit.

“Whoa, calm down—we almost bowled over those…those guys over there!”

Finna waved it away easily. “The dwarves, you mean? They’re alright. The most that would happen is that we’d fall down if we crash into them and they will help us up. Many of them are always proud to show that they can still be stronger than an Aesir even if they’re only half the size.”

“O…kay?” And here she was worried that they’d be offended if she called them dwarves. Looks like it’s a name they identify with alright.

“So, Darcy, are you from Midgard? Truly, honestly, certainly _from Midgard?_ ”

Darcy eyed her sideways. Finna seemed to find it difficult to contain her excitement, already partly bouncing on her seat.

“Yyyyeaah, why?”

Finna let out an unexpectedly high-pitched squeal and a torrent of questions burst forth.

A _Midgardian_ _was_ _truly, absolutely_ rare, to use Finna’s words. There hadn’t been contact with that part of the Nine Realms for ‘centuries and centuries more’ that there were also the most ridiculous rumours of what they look like, or what their land looked like—like how they have desserts hot enough to melt the soles of boots, or even mountains cold and barren enough to rival Jötunheim’s. Darcy had to juggle her attention between Finna and the indulgent waitress that just watched them with a smile as she waited.

The food was actually pretty good, even if rustic, and she was getting used to people eyeing her curiously due to her clothes. The soup was flavourful and even the sausages available made most store-bought ones she’d eaten before taste like foam in comparison. There was a cosy, smoky scent to the whole place that probably came from using firewood.

“What’s the shortest path to Asgard’s royal palace on foot?” Darcy asked Finna after a while.

Finna stared at her as if she was crazy. Again. _Boy, that look’s becoming real familiar_.

“You’re going to the Golden Hall? On _foot?_ Why would you want to go on foot?”

She rolled her eyes. “Because if I don’t, my backside’s going to be hurting real bad tomorrow. I can’t really ride horses, okay?”

“You _can’t ride horses?_ But I thought you’re a Midgardian Princess? Oh, I know! You would want a white horse, right? The princesses always gets white horses in the stories and we have one that would be _perfect_.”

Darcy groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. She had only said that she was sent from earth by the earth people, ‘to represent them’, and Finna latched on to the idea that she was a princess of her people sent to Asgard within a microsecond. The girl would not be budged on this point even after an explanation or four, and she was already too spent after putting enough effort _not_ to get called ‘Lady Darcy’ or ‘Your Highness’. She managed to do that only after convincing the girl that she wanted to be her _friend_ , and friends call each other by their names.

“Midgard is…really different from Asgard, Finna. We don’t even use horses to go places anymore.” Darcy said.

She gasped. “That’s impossible.”

The brunette sighed. “It’s a long story, kid. Anyway, why can’t I just walk there?”

“Because it’s _far_.” She said slowly, as if trying to make a point to someone who’s really slow. “Besides, what would you do with your bag?”

“You _can_ just send it ahead of me, can’t you?”

She shuffled her feet and looked up. “Well, yes. But you _can’t_ go there on foot, Darcy. You’re here for the people of Midgard, right?”

“Yes?”

“How would it look if their princess walked to the palace? It wouldn’t look good!”

Darcy only stared blankly at her. “What. So what? I still want to walk, though.”

“All the other lords and ladies are going to be coming on carriages and horses.” Finna looked positively heartbroken at the idea, her eyes bright. “I’m sorry that we don’t have any carriages and that we’re not one of Lady Freya’s bigger inns. But we have Finhofi and she’s really pretty and _please say you’re going to ride her, please?_ I swear she’s well behaved and fit for a princess and we’ll take good care of Bludna as usual and I’m sorry we couldn’t be better—”

“Finna, _please_. It’s _fine_. It’s completely _fine_.” Urgh, she was a sucker for kids. Really, she is. Even with half-grown brats like Sarah’s younger brother she couldn’t say ‘no’ most of the time. It was even worse with the young ones. Darcy had gotten down on her knees before she knew it and had pulled the girl into her arms.

“Like I said, I don’t usually ride horses on earth, anyway. We ride on mechanical things there. It’s a _much_ smoother and less bumpy than horses.”

“But princesses ride horses here, Darcy. You _have_ to ride one, you see? Otherwise many lords and ladies would understim—underist—think _bad_ about you and Midgard when you’re _really nice_.”

Finna stared at her with those bright blue eyes and a quivering lower lip. She couldn’t even say no; that explanation sounded as to do anything else was to screw with earth’s reputation, and by extension, earth’s diplomatic efforts. It was just her bad luck that she was the diplomat representing earth, wasn’t she?

Darcy cursed herself even as she nodded her agreement.

“Oh, _fine_. I suppose one ride to the Hall on horseback isn’t going to kill me.”

‘-

Darcy winced as the muscles sing their lament of pain with every movement.

_Oh god, my ass is killing me!_

There was also the issue of _chafing_. Can’t forget the chafing. Darcy gratefully took the hand of the warrior by the grand doors who helped her down from Finhofi. She had no idea whether he was a footman or a knight or a guard, but she could figure that out later. She thanked him and gave him a watery smile while slowly trying to stand up and walk normally instead of waddling away. She snorted; _yeah, wouldn’t that be a good image of the earth?_ The guard misunderstood her reason and tried to assure her.

“She will be stabled and taken care of, my Lady, there is no need to be concerned about your mount.”

“Oh, it’s fine. It’s not even mine. Finhofi belongs to the _Field and Grove_. Do you think you can return her to them later?”

The guard had already picked up her bag before she could, leaving her awkwardly empty-handed for one. His eyes widened in recognition of the name. “The _Field and Grove_ , my Lady? Most of Lady Freya’s host have arrived already in the eastern wing. It will not be difficult to find your own arrangements.”

_Aw, shite_ , it looks like even the palace people knew whose allegiance the _Field and Grove_ belonged to, didn’t they? _Damn_. More work for her.

“Thank you for telling me. We did meet on the way here and she had been very welcoming. But the truth is, I’m not of Vanaheim,” _or Lady Freya’s host_ , but she didn’t say that one out loud in case it could be taken as a rejection of Freya’s hospitality. “I’m Darcy Lewis, representative of Midgard. I’ve just arrived and I haven’t introduced myself to the Allfather or whoever’s it is that diplomats are supposed to introduce themselves to. So, if you could show me where I should stay while I’m in Asgard and generally doing this _representing_ thing, I’d be thankful.”

While she said all this, she hadn’t failed to notice that other people kept arriving—and Finna was right, they either arrived on horseback or with carriages. Some wore clothes that are sometimes similar to Freya’s entourage and others wore outfits that she was more familiar with, owing mostly to seeing Loki and Thor wear them (Loki because he’s such a clotheshorse, Thor because he’s sometimes absentminded enough to have picked up Asgardian daily wear than his earth wardrobe). Occasionally, the clothes were completely different from the two earlier styles she had noted; it reminded her of Loki’s leather outfit but with more fur.

_Was this even normal?_

The guard’s expression was a little confusing and a mixture of other things she couldn’t name. She could see the wariness just fine, though. Darcy was still reminding herself to take an occasional glance of all the arriving people to take notes of what they look like.

“Midgard?”

She nodded and stood taller, the slight unreality she was feeling ever since she stepped on the Bifrost hadn’t fully disappeared and she steadied her voice. Because her? An ambassador? Who in tarnation managed to sell the idea to the President in the first place? She probably owed Pepper her firstborn for this.

_Here goes nothing_. Here was the first Very Serious Job of her adult life.

“Yes, Midgard. I am Darcy Lewis, CDA, I mean, _chargé d’affaires_ of Midgard. I’m the de facto Ambassador-at-large of the United States of America to Asgard and the Nine Realms.”

That was if Senate actually approved her as an actual ambassador instead of disagreeing with her temporary placement—but oh _wait_ , the Bifrost still sucks. After sending her through, she was pretty sure the Bifrost Lite would have to stand down because it had used up all of the energy saved up in Stark Tower’s gigantic thaumaturgical batteries. The Senate would just have to deal with her because _they can’t very well send anyone else_.

If nobody was watching her, she would definitely be doing a victory dance.

So yeah, she’s probably going to be formalised with the job. One that would actually use her poli-sci skills. Darcy still couldn’t decide whether that was a good thing or not.

“Of course, Lady Darcy. Please follow me.”

He said it at just the right time too, because Darcy was starting to get antsy at all the gazes that were sent her way. Some were blatant where others were subtle. Most of them were curious.

Not all of them were friendly.

‘-

Darcy followed the guard down the hallways and through many great rooms, desperately doing her best to memorise the route. Her guide was quite nimble, moving quickly even when there were clusters of people in front of them that they didn’t have time for any chit-chat. She didn’t mind; there were many things she needed to sort in her head too.

Darcy made sure that her room was _not_ in the same wing as Freya’s entourage.

“Lady Darcy?”

Darcy glanced up. They were already at the mouth of a hallway. In front of her was an elegant older woman. The guard that had escorted her made the introductions.

“Lady Darcy, this is Lady Gylla, head of the East Wings of the Hall. Lady Gylla, this is Lady Darcy of Midgard, Ambassador.”

The guard was looking expectantly at Darcy. Darcy blinked back. The guard seemed to be holding back the urge to fidget as he stared at her meaningfully. She couldn’t help but wonder that he _can’t_ be expecting a tip, can he? She’d never seen that in any movies set in the medieval period and she’d hate to make her first _faux pas_ now. She could see his fingers starting to twitch from where she stood.

Gylla cleared her throat.

“Yes, you may take your leave, Fasti.”

He bowed once and hightailed it out of there with relief and Darcy’s eyes widened in realisation. _Wait, he was waiting for me to say something? Crap. How much weird social stuff do I have to learn here?_

Gylla turned to her as if she hadn’t done her best garden gnome imitation and smiled, continuing her explanation.

“Now, Lady Darcy—”

“Just Darcy, please.” Darcy insisted.

“Please call me Gylla, then. Now, this is one of the wings where we usually place the staff of various diplomatic missions. The other one is the northwest. Your room is the second to the end on the right—we’ll be there very soon. Usually, it is a rare event for any guest to have neighbours to their left and right, but this time I can guarantee that you do. Almost all of the rooms here have been filled by now.”

Darcy looked around. Sure enough, she could see people with clothing that are stranger than the average Asgardian walking in or out of several doors in the segment of the corridor behind her, and in front of her.

“Wow, really? What’s the grand event?”

“The All Thing,” Gylla replied. She did not seem to notice the confusion in Darcy’s face as she continued. “Of course we are very prepared for even full capacity, so you need not worry that the staff will be unable to fulfil any of your requests because of the number of guests. Pardon me for asking Lady Darcy, but I noticed you have only a single bag. Is that all you carried here?”

Darcy’s smile was sheepish. “Well, I don’t know just what I’d need here, so I thought it’s better to bring too little than too much, you know? Though the main reason is just that I left in a hurry—I didn’t even know I got this post _yesterday_.”

The woman was kind and no-nonsense, her efficiency with words an accurate reflection of how she ran her staff. It impressed her; the woman didn’t bat an eye at Darcy’s statement of how she only came with the clothes on her back and one duffel bag, or how she was certainly unprepared for any formal events or occasions that can take place.

Gylla nodded thoughtfully. “Ah, I see. There are handmaidens here that I am sure are your size, even if not quite your height. Procuring clothes for you will not be a problem.”

Darcy winced. _Yeah, right, just keep repeating how short I am again_.

“Okay. Thanks.”

“I will have one of my staff show you around and—oh, what a _fortunate_ coincidence, it is as if Fate herself wills it. Malmury!” Gylla had turned away from Darcy by now. She raised her voice to call a young woman that had just entered the hallway from the other end. The young woman was only three doors away from them as Darcy and Gylla had traversed more than half the length of the corridor at this point. Her hair was more red than blond, with curls unrulier than Darcy had expected to see among the perfect Asgardian. It was an unexpectedly welcome change to see. Like most Asgardians, she was taller than Darcy.

“Malmury, this is Lady Darcy of Midgard. Lady Darcy, this is Malmury, a handmaiden in the Golden Hall. Now Malmury, I have just the task for you. You will be Lady Darcy’s guide for however long her stay is.”

Unexpectedly, the young woman tensed. Darcy could see panic flickering past her blue eyes before she held it back.

“But Ma’am, I am still one of the weavers—”

“We have an excessive number of weavers already that other responsibilities can be easily given to a quarter of you and no harm will be done. I have also heard from Jora and Ingeborg that you have had to undo your work several times as you missed several threads or miscounted the warp and weft. It will not be a problem at all for you to resign from that responsibility.”

Gylla’s voice was more matter-of-face than stern, but Darcy could still see Malmury flinch at the ease with which the older woman listed her flaws.

“I see…” her voice was dispirited.

“Excellent! I know you will understand.” Gylla beamed with encouragement at her before turning to Darcy again. “Lady Darcy, I am certain that Malmury will take very good care of you—you may address any concern or questions about Asgard to her.”

Darcy could only nod and smile awkwardly as Gylla beamed, counted it as a job well done and took her leave to oversee other things. Her smile was a half-cringe now because she realised that she’d just gotten the poor young woman reassigned from her preferred post. She’d be lucky if Malmury didn’t resent her.

“Lady Darcy—”

“Please, just Darcy.”

Malmury stared at her as if she’d grown an extra head and didn’t say anything for three seconds. “Lady Darcy, I see that you’ve come from far away, for I am not familiar at all with your outfit. Would you wish for a bath first to clean yourself of the dust of travels?”

Darcy held back a sigh. It would seem that her guide’s solution of dealing with something bizarre was to pretend she didn’t hear it.

“I’ve already taken one, thanks.”

“And I’m sure it couldn’t have rivalled our _baths_.” With a quiet determination, the handmaiden had linked her arm with Darcy’s and lead her into the room, leaving Darcy to gape at the amount of space she was given—the floor was white marble, finely veined with gold, with rugs and carpet laid at strategic places, the French windows and doors to the balcony provided her with a familiar view of a golden city. Her eyes widened when she realised where she’d seen it before— _in a dream, in Loki’s room_. The ceiling rose high above her in elegant arches and buttresses, reminding her slightly of old cathedrals. Maroon drapes and curtains added a warm touch to the room, _and_ _were those doors leading to other rooms?_

Darcy Lewis, Ambassador of Midgard didn’t get a room assigned. She got a _suite_.

Malmury continued towing her towards a large double door that she opened easily. Steam unfurled from within. she realised that she had to amend her name for the place.

What she had wasn’t even something like a jacuzzi tub, she had a _pool_ worthy of a bathhouse, bordered with dark grey granite. _It_ _’_ _s a small pool,_ _yeah_ _, but still a damned pool_ , she thought with disbelief. There was a wide set of _stairs_ gently leading down into its depths. It currently sat empty. Slight mist curled at the bottom, as well as the bathroom’s floor in general and she wondered where the misting machine or stove was—at least it was only faintly sweet-smelling instead of eye-watering.

Honestly, it looked more like a personal pool from those fancy interior design magazines.

Darcy was wondering why the pool was set farther from the door than she expected, and when she turned around she saw the exact reason why. At the left of the door was a shower that could fit four, along with a massive showerhead. To the right of the door, wood benches were set into the wall, and what looked like a long, low barbecue pit was set in front of it.

_No, that’s not it_ , she thought as understanding dawned. _It’s for sauna_.

Malmury didn’t even blink as she released Darcy’s arm and moved forward to left of the pool. That was when the levers on the wall caught her attention.

“Now these,” Malmury pointed out, “are for the hot water tanks; the slight difference in colouring shows how hot or how cold the water inside is. The ones on the right are for cold water tanks. It is possible to use the taps, of course, but if you’re filling the bath up from an empty state, this would be faster.”

The mechanical levers, Darcy saw, was linked to massive square stone jugs, sitting on a ledge above Malmury. Darcy had to remind herself to shut her mouth.

“Whoa.”

And of course, she noticed the _other_ giant-ass jugs. The pair to the right and the pair to the left, the ones that Malmury had pointed out were obvious. But then, there were two bright red one at the head of the pool that had its own levers. Next to it were two jugs that were almost neon _green_. Next to that was a pair that were dark blue.

“And what are _those_ for? And those other taps?”

There were also taps located around the pool at places that correspond to the placement of the tanks. Malmury opened her mouth for a moment, but no words came. She shook her head.

“You are a Midgardian, are you not, Lady Darcy?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Truly, completely, _Midgardian?_ ”

“Pretty sure I’m 100% human. Why?”

Malmury hurried to the tanks at the back, almost flat out running as she pulled down smaller side levers beside the main ones. Was it just Darcy’s impression, or was she actually frantic? “Then I better lock these levers and empty the tanks. Locking it from here is enough to stop any possible flow, but to be doubly certain, I’ll also make sure the pipes are permanently locked from central by this evening. It’s, uh, something for other races.”

There was something unsettling about that rush.

“Let me help you—”

“Whoops, _no_ ,” Darcy ducked away before Malmury could get her hands on her blazer, or any other clothing on her part. “I’m a new de-facto ambassador and I still haven’t seen the secretary of state…no, I’m not sure if you have that post. Asgard would probably have a foreign minister, right? Or whoever it is holds that post here?  I need to see the dude first. A bath can easily follow after that.”

Darcy pretended she didn’t notice that long sigh Malmury was making.

“You know who that is, right?”

“Foreign minister?”

“You know, the person who coordinates the relations between Asgard and other realms? The Allfather couldn’t have been holding everything himself, could he?” Not to mention that she’d probably have an issue with holding back her sarcasm if she ever met Odin. Definitely _not_ a good way to start her new post. The redhead mulled over the question.

“There is a member of the court that travels often, sometimes bearing gifts from the Allfather to other places and other times carrying gifts back. Is Asgard’s travelling poet the person you are looking for?”

That already sounds like old school diplomacy, but Darcy had to make sure. “You mention gifts. Had he ever come home because he escaped a mob with pitchforks ready to burn him on a stake? Malevolent mages with their fireballs? Dissatisfied despots after his head?”

Darcy thought she saw a small smile on Malmury’s face before it was schooled away to a polite façade. “Yes, I have heard of similar things too.”

“Great! He’s probably it. Now, if you can show me where he is, I’d be very thankful.”

“But the bath—”

“Nope. That’s for later. I’d definitely want to eat first before taking a bath, anyway, so I won’t be back anytime soon.”

The only thing she needed to decide on now was how to get lunch for herself.

So, _of course_ Malmury had given her the directions to the banquet hall and happily suggested that Darcy eat there like all ‘grand and noble guests of Asgard’. Thing is, she wasn’t in the mood for pomp and ceremony; she wanted _food_ , as opposed to getting stuck to holding small talk and diplomacy for at least _two hours_ , trapped as she was on that damned banquet table to listen to the conversations of whoever was to her left and right.

“My lady, I should prepare a meal for you in your chambers, then—” Malmury started.

“Oh, no, that would take _ages_. Seriously, I can just drop in at the kitchen and ask them to deliver something. _You_ need to take your own lunch.”

“But I’m fine, I can take it later.”

This assertion was roundly mocked by the growl of her own stomach. The redhead blushed. Darcy pretended she hadn’t heard that at all.

“It’s fine. I’ve had brunch on the way here, anyway. And I’m not in the mood for formal dinners or anything. Just to stuff as much delicious food as I can down my stomach.”

Malmury did not appear to quite believe her assertions. Darcy changed tack.

“Come on. Would you eat with me in the suite?”

“I wouldn’t dare to impose my company on yours—”

Oh, she _would_ dare. Darcy would see to it even if it would take days to convince her. “That’s settled it then. You’re going to go off to eat with your friends while I go off on my own errands and find some food for me too.”

The relieved expression on the redhead’s face was real as she excused herself to dine with her fellow handmaidens. Anyway, Darcy didn’t have the heart to pull Malmury away from what was possibly lunch with her friends to keep chaperoning the human visitor.

“But you will take a bath afterwards, wouldn’t you, Lady Darcy?”

“Well…”

“I’ll make sure that everything is already settled in the bathroom for your use, then.” She insisted, perhaps to assuage her own guilt. Darcy knew well enough to pick her battles and graciously surrendered that to Malmury (her backside would welcome the warm water, she was sure). The handmaiden was now determined to find at least five varieties of scent soaps, colognes and shampoos before going off to her own meal.

All in all, it wasn’t a bad start for everything.

‘-

The man that Darcy ended up marking as “Asgard’s Foreign Minister” in her head was actually a decent old guy whose hair had gone completely white. He was also still unexpectedly fit, judging from the way he casually flung around sacks of fertiliser with one hand was any indication. Speaking of fertilisers… Malmury had guided Darcy down through various hallways and paths to a large orchard, where she encountered the minister that was also a gardening enthusiast. She didn’t even need to worry about the creases in her clothes because he was still in a field outfit, dirt and all! His smile was warm and without reserve and Darcy relaxed tremendously because of that. He seems like an okay guy. She could probably work with him…

…that is, if she could remember his _name_.

_Drat_. She had been too high strung to make sure her first introduction went off without a glitch that she had missed it.

She shook her head as she walked back to her suite. _Never mind, Malmury would know_. She’d ask that first thing after the handmaiden was done with lunch.

Darcy skipped to her loaned wardrobe and opened it. (She liked to think of it as borrowing clothes, so she’d be prudent with them, but seeing just how abundant the riches of Asgard was, she suspected they were all gifted to her. Ouch.) She reminded herself to note what was expected to be given to an ambassador to Asgard. There was _no way_ she was going to let earth be compared unfavourably when it came to their turn to host an ambassador from the Nine Realms. That mental note done, Darcy went back to rifling through her wardrobe. _Formal dress, another formal dress, another dress even more extravagant than that one that I could probably travel back in time and wear to the Queen Victoria’s coronation…aaand,_ bingo, _simple day dresses_. It didn’t look that much different from the outfit that Malmury was wearing and that was exactly what Darcy was looking for.

She nodded with satisfaction at her success in procuring a costume to blend in. Now, add some flat shoes and she’d be able to go down to the kitchens and ask for a meal. If there wasn’t enough space for her to eat there, she could just ask for a basket of food, or something.

(She had only realised now that she had _no idea_ about how to request room service here.)

‘-

Getting lunch was more annoying than Darcy expected it to be. Darcy saw a maid that was conveniently close and walked up to her.

“Excuse me, can you tell me where the kitchen is?”

The maid in front of her only answered her question with a look of confusion. “But Miss, I’m sure you know where it is already from your novice decades…”

_Damn, not another reference to those_ novice decades _once again_. Darcy took a deep breath and did her best not to sigh or roll her eyes. She let the now-familiar words float by while looking for a convenient point to cut in. 

It was not as easy as it looks to find the kitchen. People keep expecting her to already know where it is, usually because they thought she was someone’s handmaiden. This in turn implied that she had been a _novice_ before that, probably in what passed for early teenage years here (or in Vanaheim or Alfheim, which didn’t change things much because the people from those two realms usually _still_ visit Asgard regularly). She had to keep repeating that she was _new in Asgard_ until it sunk into the brains of whoever it was she was talking to. If she didn’t get the directions, she’d just give up and find someone else. If she did, she’d follow it as much as it makes sense. Then, when she started to get lost again, she’d find another person to ask directions from.

Rinse. Repeat. _Ad Nauseam_.

This time, she was getting annoyed enough to start veering off-script.

“No, I am _not_ anyone’s handmaiden and so no, I’ve never been a novice in Asgard either. I’m just a regular visitor in Asgard, okay? Like the lot of them that you guys are having right now on account of the…Things? Thingy?” Darcy huffed.

“So…seriously, where _is_ the kitchen? Do you guys keep top secret recipes there or something? Is that why it’s so _damn hard_ to get there? Why don’t you guys just open a restaurant franchise on earth, if you’re all that good?”

The maid gave her a deer-in-the-headlights look, hands nervously clutching the basket of clean linens.

“No, my Lady, I don’t think so, my Lady. Um, could I help my Lady with anything? _My Lady_?”

Darcy didn’t realise that the words _my lady_ could be used as punctuation. Then again she probably came off as a harridan. Didn’t she learn enough already from having to serve all those overbearing customers with waay-too-specific orders when she had been a barista? She sighed and stepped back a little to give her some breathing space.

“I’m sorry for being too abrupt. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just want… _the kitchen_. I only want to go to the kitchen, okay? I’m Darcy, what’s your name?”

“Um…”

…

‘-

_Well, this is a bit of a pickle_ …  Darcy thought.

That conversation was done and over with some time ago, with Eirny (the maid) insisting that Darcy go back immediately because food would be delivered to her room. Darcy insisted right back that she’d managed to walk around this far without any help, so of _course_ she knew how to find her way back.

Which turned out to be a big fat lie, seeing how lost she was.

_Well…_

She was out on one of the gardens again, but it wasn’t the orchard the poet-minister dude was in the last time around. Darcy would’ve been a lot happier if that was true, _really_ , because he seems like an okay guy.

This…field of _flowers_ doesn’t seem to be it, though. It was also a lot larger than she thought was usual, even taking into account that she was in a _palace_ of sorts. There were trees on the edges, the bushes and flowers arranged naturally and if her gaze didn’t stray towards the buildings, Darcy could be forgiven to think she was in a _meadow_. With gentle rollings of the land that wasn’t as much as a hill than finely sculpted scenery—it gave the impression that a sheet of golden grasses and bounties of blossoms had been unfurled over the land, their endless pattern undulating over the gigantic blanket’s billows.

_It’s too damn pretty_.

Alright, maybe she wasn’t exactly in any position to complain about anything being too large, considering that all she’d lived in so far are measly student _apartments_. She hadn’t even visited Schönbrunn Palace when she was in Europe, and her friends had assured her that it was _huge_.

Darcy almost couldn’t see the pathways following the sides of buildings that lead away and out of sight. She resented the idea of having to go the long way around and thought that she saw a path through the middle of the garden. _Oooh, an idea!_ Why not take the shortcut, then?

Humming idly, Darcy proceeded to cut her way through.

She had not wended her way too far in when she kicked up something that _wasn’t_ pieces of dried grass or fallen flowers. It was a fabric, richly embroidered and just a few shades darker than the grasses (she couldn’t believe she’d missed it, though). She hadn’t even slowed down yet when her _other_ foot kicked up a ceramic flagon. With a yelp, she proceeded to catch it before it tumbled down and crack. She didn’t really care if it meant she had to go down on the grasses as well.

_Phew. That was a narrow miss._

“That’s no way to treat a good wine.”

Darcy sat up abruptly at the voice. Not far from her, a man was lazily lounging on the grass, the long golden curls of his hair almost indistinguishable from the light-coloured grass. A layer of his clothing was discarded nearby and his shirt was on the thin side. With his olive skin and easy grace, he looked as if he belonged there, in the idyllic scene.

Her assessment of the scenery still hadn’t changed; too damned pretty for her own good.

“I wouldn’t have kicked it if I could see it, you know?” Darcy complained, trying her best not to ogle.

He did not seem the slightest bit sympathetic, only eyeing his tossed cape critically. There was something oddly familiar about his pouty lips, though. And his annoyingly handsome face. (It wasn’t like Thor’s or Loki’s, or else she’d notice. But really, where had she seen him before?)

“It was unmissable,” he replied. “A little glamour will help distract any onlookers but it would have barely stood an experienced magician’s cursory glance.”

She would’ve easily said that she didn’t know any magic. Really, she was about to. But behind that lazy air of his was something sharp and judging in his amber eyes. Instinct made Darcy held that answer back. Darcy could not help but remember that Loki had thought it to be her advantage to contain magic than not, and that he’d never really explained _why_.

“Even a distracted magician?” She threw out the question.

“Yes, even a distracted one.”

“Even a distracted and _hungry_ one?” Darcy asked again. Not far from him was a spread of food over a blanket that had caught her attention, and her stomach growled in concert, as if affirming her opinion. She winced, but he let out a bark of laughter at that.

“Perhaps not one that is both distracted and hungry.”

“And tired from all the world-spanning travels.” Darcy added, finding a comfortable way to sit and forcing herself to _not stare at the prissy pretty guy_.

“Are you always this loud and noisy?” He asked, bemused.

“Are you always this snippy to strangers?” She asked back, knowing well enough she hadn’t even raised her voice.

“Only to those that are blind to where they tread,” he replied.

Darcy shrugged, ignoring the fine edge to his voice. “Oh, touché. I suppose I need to pay better attention next time. Here, your wine is _fine_ , by the way.”

He did not move towards the flagon she offered and only raised a glass instead. “Since you’ve disturbed my rest, you can pour my wine for me.”

His poise was perfect and his expression polite, but she could discern and implicit, unsaid order carried in his voice. She could feel her hands almost moving of their own accords to do so if she hadn’t exerted her will to tamp down on it. His amber eyes were hypnotic and she forced herself to look away from them. If she leaned forward, move closer, she could maybe reach out at the plane of his abs…

Darcy blinked and tightened her hold on the flagon. She glared at him. He had lowered his glass by now and there was an amused smile on his face.

“Stop that.”

“No, it is but a trifling. Throw your best at me, if you will, and I will show you how a master magician unravels them.” He replied with ease. “Perhaps you might even _learn_ something. Enough to stop kicking at resting people.”

Darcy tried to keep her breathing steady, to focus on the cool vessel in her hands and not on the alluring man in front of her. Like _hell_ she could cast anything! But there was _no way_ she would admit to not having magic either. Not when her gut feeling told her not to, not until she knew the situation better (and who on Asgard was this conceited dude, anyway??)

She snorted instead, trying to act cooler than she was feeling.

“I don’t need to.” Darcy said. She made a point to meet his gaze. She made sure her words were steady and clear, and she didn’t care if she had to sink the nails of her left hand into her right arm to achieve that. The pain helped her focus.

“I’ll pour your wine for you, but only because it’s the decent thing to do. Consider it as my apologies for interrupting your rest.”

He raised one eyebrow, his eyes half-lidded and she clawed her wrist harder. If she gets out of this in one piece, she _damn well_ would figure out how to work the room service chutes and maybe _never leave her room_ for the duration of her visit. _Shit, I never thought about how there’d be magic wielders_ everywhere _in Asgard_. Or that they’d cast _anywhere_.

“Really? You would think it’s enough? Yet who are you to assure me of the greatness of this beneficence of yours?”

He was in the perfect position to be knocked down if she pounced on him and… _wait, was that a mocking tone?_ No, not really. But it was _barely_ not. Add to that the sardonic curl of his lips and Darcy could feel her temper rising.

“And who are you to assure me that it is _not_ enough?” She asked back, before she even realised what it was that she’d just said.

It was a bit unnerving to see a line grow on his brows at that, to see him sit straighter and really look at her, golden curls falling down his back as rich as ripe wheat. She closed her hands to stop herself from reaching out and sinking her fingers into them, his pull still as magnetic as before. Darcy had no idea who in seven hells she had been talking to all this time, she just hoped he wasn’t some prince she couldn’t recognise, but if her crappy luck held, that hope would probably be dashed soon. _Damn royalty and their damn touchy egos_.

Darcy took a shaky breath and shook her head, trying to make sure that she could do some damage control while she was at it. It would be no good for earth if she messed up at this, would it?

_And here I was hoping I don’t need to have diplomacy for lunch_.

“What I meant was, it doesn’t matter who I am, or who you are. You’re a citizen of your realm the same way I’m a citizen of mine. Even that knowledge should be enough for us to treat other people with respect,” she raised the flagon in a gesture of peace, and then tried to figure out how to open it. It sure beats staring dazedly at his lips and letting her thoughts loop into how he tastes.

“ _Citizen_ , is it?”

She could not make out the tone that he said it in. It was only several seconds later that she realised that perhaps he had expected her to say ladies and gentlemen. Or gentlefolk. _Well, too bad I ain’t raised up fancy_ —and that she always believed in democracy. Was that a faux pas? _Dammit_ , she can’t second-guess herself now. She could only plan the best she could and fix anything crapping up as she goes along.

“This is not _beneficence_.” She insisted. “I’m not that grand that my presence is a gift on anyone. It’s a simple apology, as I’ve said before, for a simple mistake.”

She paused for breath. “It’s the humane thing to do.”

Darcy hoped to heavens that the Allspeak translated _humane_ properly instead of glitching it into ‘human-like’ or something similar. _This is what you do, if you treat other people as_ people _, instead of some strange, alien_ other, was what she’d been thinking.

This is what you do, if you treat people as people, instead of first wondering what station they have in life.

She was gripping the flagon so hard she didn’t know how she wasn’t shaking. His gaze gave her a cold burning sensation—she could see that he still disagreed, but that he could also see that her point was not completely baseless. Darcy had to concentrate not to fall into it, to lay her arms around his shoulders and find out just how bad he could burn her, that they could burn each other. There were no words between them for a while, save for the wind sighing through the grasses and rustling the leaves. She dug her nails in harder. Her right arm was going to be scratched up by now.

To her relief, he gazed away for a moment before he raised his cup, and Darcy could breathe freer.

“Very well, then, Unknown Lady. Do your best.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“But know well that not all people are created equal, in temperament or in tendencies. If that is what you seek to prove in this summit, only disappointments will wait for you.”

It was only self-control that prevented Darcy from blurting out “ _what the hell are you saying_ ” to him. Considering the amused look on his face, she supposed her expression already spoke volumes. She declined his offer of food by saying that her companions must be waiting for her to dine in her room (well, Malmury might be waiting for her, and the food from the kitchen had probably arrived too, but there was no guarantee that she was going to have dinner _together_ with Malmury, but eh, who’d notice?)

For her, it was the simple precaution of not accepting the hospitality of a guy whose identity she didn’t even know— _who knows whose side is he on, anyway?_ He had never asked for her name, and she damned well wouldn’t go ahead and ask for his when he didn’t. She was pretty sure there’s some implicit game she’d lose that way.

It was only much, much later that she noticed he had mentioned something about a summit.

_Wait, what summit??_

‘-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Out of the frying pan and into the fire! Just the way I preferred it.
> 
> _Concerning gifts in many cultures_ : Gifts always represent an effort to reach out from the gifter to the giftee. One may spurn the olive branch extended, or one may accept it, but there is no way to not change the relationship. This is actually a thing that is studied in anthropology. Look it up if you don’t believe me.
> 
> _Random thoughts on casting_ : Freya is undoubtedly Halle Berry in my head. I don’t really have a particular image for Malmury, though. The actress who played Amy Pond, maybe? Karen Gillan? Same with unknown princeling dude. I’m randomly sticking with either Jason Isaacs or Viggo Mortensen, but I’m not really attached to either. Both actors do _great_ when they have to work with ambiguous characters instead of straight-up good ones.
> 
>  
> 
> Glossary, Schmossary:
> 
> **_Ad Nauseam_ :** (Latin); literally, to seasickness. Latin expression now meaning to a sickening degree, or as I like to put it, all the way up to vomiting. 
> 
> **_Ambassador-at-Large_ :** (diplomacy) a diplomat of the highest rank or a minister accredited to represent his or her country internationally (this is straight out of Wikipedia folks). An ambassador-at-large is contrasted with ambassador-in-residence, which is usually what people have in mind when they hear the word ‘ambassador’ because they’re posted to a single country or embassy. An ambassador-at-large, on the other hand, is given the responsibility to operate in a group of usually neighbouring countries.
> 
> **_Chargé d’Affaires_ :** (diplomacy) French for ‘the one in charge of various affairs’. A diplomat who heads a diplomatic mission in the absence of its Chief of Mission (an Ambassador, for example). The difference between an ambassador and a CDA in the US: an ambassador is appointed by the President and must be approved by the Senate. An ambassador can be appointed when the Senate is in recess, but the ambassador is only ambassador-at-interim that way, and can still be replaced if once the Senate is in session again, the Senate disagrees with the posting. 
> 
> Technically, Darcy is only a CDA right now, though she’s placed to become the actual ambassador-at-large of the US to the Nine Realms at, say, more than 90% probability.
> 
> **_Schönbrunn Palace_ :** also known as _Schloss Schönbrunn_ , the imperial summer palace of the Habsburgs in their heyday. As can be predicted from a family that rules over an empire over centuries, it’s damned huge and filled to the brim with artworks and cultural treasures. 
> 
> It’s a priceless treasure, yes, but a more reasonable view of it is this; if a modern democratic government were to choose between building a grand palace and improving education and healthcare, you can guess which one they’d choose and why. It’s not as if the ruled peons and citizens of the Habsburgs could complain about the spending habits of a random emperors/empresses, could they? Much less get those complaints heard.


	33. XXXIII. Say Hello to the Great Game 1 (Accidents)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Darcy wants to take a bath. An accidental assassination attempt. There is Lady Sif, the warrior. A tense conversation with uncomfortable implications._

### Say Hello to the Great Game 1 (Accidents)

It was almost like diving, Darcy thought. When one fell into the water, its sheer mass and presence surrounded the diver completely. There is an intimacy and involvement that mere air would never manage. As one swims upward to the surface, air that most people took for granted felt liberating.

 _I’m surfacing_.

That was the feeling she had when she opened the door to her room. Darcy didn’t realise that there was unwanted pressure swirling around her and dragging her limbs until she broke completely free of it with the final step into her quarters. Her heart beat at a faster rate than usual and she felt she’d just run two miles. _Or maybe just walked two miles in the Himalayas, where the air is thin_. She wasn’t dizzy, but she felt lightheaded enough to want to lie down for a bit.

It was mostly her gut feeling than anything, but she was almost sure the damned princeling she came across just now practically dripped magic. And she just managed to scrape herself out of his drip-zone, to torture that analogy further. Sweat had started to lightly coat her skin, and with an annoyed huff, Darcy decided that maybe it was time to take that bath after all.

She also needed to find a way to repel the personal magic field of some _Asgardians_ or whatever sky people happened to have them—but she could probably deal with that later. Current light-headedness aside, there can’t really be _that_ many who had the annoying bad habit of throwing magic around at other (assumed) spellcasters willy-nilly, right?

_Right?_

A sniff to her armpit convinced her that she’d really only just worn the dress from a few hours ago. No need to get a new one after the bath when it was still perfectly okay, unexpected conversations on grassy fields aside.

_Anyway, where’s lunch? I thought that would be enough time to get the food here?_

The living room of her suite was still lacking of any sort of food tray.

“Next time, I damn well would go down to the kitchen myself and get a tray of food—even if I have to pry it out of their hands.” Darcy muttered under her breath.

She gave up on lunch for now and decided to succumb to a bath for now.

Darcy strolled right into the bathroom, momentarily surprised at the block of warm air that muffled her face when the door opened. The misting machine was working harder than before as mist swirled around her calf, the fragrance was now more minty than floral. _I really need to ask where the hell it’s placed_ , Darcy thought, thinking of turning it off. If she hadn’t known that the floor was even, she’d be more worried that she’d trip over something.

_Hmm, cold water or hot water?_

She was beginning to feel a bit overheated in the steamy air, especially after the exertion that was her trip back to her room. Cold water doesn’t sound like such a bad idea—she can always add more hot water later if she was unsatisfied. Locating the cold water tank, a casual tap to it gave the satisfactory hum of a filled container. She pulled the right lever down, and the gears started tipping the tank, pouring water to the pool.

What she hadn’t expected was loud and widespread hissing sound. Steam billowed up from the pool and she couldn’t see her own _hand_ at that second.

_What?!_

Something _roared_. It was low and long, the sound rattling her right through her ribcage. Darcy was disoriented enough that she almost fell and only managed to back away by reflex.

Red eyes glowed through all the steam and mist, rising up and surging forward. She saw shoulders built like a bull superior to all bulls, a _Minotaur_ , and the unknown monster was pulling itself up by the side of the pool, growling all the while.

“ _DESIST, INTRUDER_.”

That snapped Darcy out of her shock.

_Hell no!_

Darcy ran, unlucky enough to have the bull-dude to have leapt out as well. She could feel the moment he landed through the vibrations on the floor, as if someone had just dropped a grand piano. Her legs took her to the right and out of the bathroom, trying not to give him a straight line to be able to aim something at her ( _and this is why I wear_ _sneakers_ ). He wasn’t at her back—she was almost relieved until she saw that he had gone for the door and stood right in front of it. It was almost as if he was challenging her to try passing him, gigantic and looming.

She gulped.

“FORFEIT NOW, WHILE I AM MERCIFUL.” He roared yet again. “I WILL ENSURE THAT IT WILL BE QUICK.”

“Forfeit _what_?” Darcy yelled back.

His…skin, if it could be said so, was mottled red and black and seemed to be of a thick hide than skin. There were the rare cracks on the surface, and they glowed a brighter red-orange. There was also a faint sulphuric scent from him, as if depths of hell itself had sent a pursuer after her.

“Your _life_.”

She was positive that there was _smoke_ coming out of his nose when he huffed, eyes glowing brighter than embers. Because _obviously_ she wasn’t going to just gave him _her life_ , she sprinted to the right. He roared again, reaching out, and Darcy found herself ducking behind one of the sofa there. They circled around it several times in a perverse imitation of slapstick comedy, but Darcy kept her eyes open enough to notice that the one time he grabbed the arm rest longer than a few seconds, the fabric had turned _black_.

It smelled burnt.

She was pretty sure she wasn’t shouting as much as she was squealing every time she narrowly dodged his arm, but she couldn’t care less. It was even worse when he simply climbed the sofa and she was left to dash and look for a different cover.

_The door!_

But he had jumped in the same direction and she would either be a) squashed or b) caught if she kept going at his general direction, so she had to turn around again. _Dammit, all the decent covers are far!_

“Why the _hell_ do you want me dead, anyway?” Darcy finally spoke up again when escaping was beginning to _not_ look like a successful idea.

He froze. It was odd—she’d never thought him as stone-like before, just thick-skinned, but for a moment he could pass for statuary. She _really_ didn’t like the way he slowly turned his head and focused those glowy eyes on her.

“Are you saying that _Niflheim_ has decided to move?”

“ _What?_ ”

“Is this how they will play it?”

Darcy didn’t get the chance to answer; he had sprung into movement and she went for the dining table. She had barely reached it in time, but it was enough for her to pull the first chair she could grab and shove it in his direction.

“Hey, Angry Red Dude, why the are we talking about _Niflheim_? I was only asking about _why_ in raw donkey’s ass’ name you’re trying to kill _me_. I don’t even know you!”

“Do _not_ play the fool and ask such an obvious question!”

It was his way of speaking that got to her first, growls included. Who did he remind her of? _All-Blind_. But he obviously wasn’t a Frost Giant. And yet…

Her eyes widened. “You’re a freaking _Fire Giant!_ ”

“Must you also say the obvious?” He sent her a disapproving look.

“It wasn’t obvious to me, damn you! _I’ve_ never seen a fire giant before until _now_.”

Now, they were playing tag yet again, this time around the dining table. Sweat was beading down her back; Darcy was numbly aware that she couldn’t keep this up forever. She needed to figure a way out, and there was no better way than to look for information.

“Alright, we got off on the wrong foot. What’s your name?” Darcy asked.

“You don’t even know the name of the man you wished harm?” He looked as if he couldn’t quite believe his predicament—and that he thought she was an idiot. _Easiest thought to read, ever_ , Darcy thought with an inward snort. She’d seen it on a thousand and one faces before.

“My name is Darcy Lewis of Midgard.”

“A Midgardian?” He scoffed, but she took it as a good thing as he’d slowed down. “You jest. It has been locked and declared a reserve by the Allfather for Ages.”

Darcy’s eyebrows rose. What was she, a _giant panda_?

“Introductions goes both ways, alright?” Darcy said this as she leaned back from another swipe across the dining table. It was a good thing that the furniture here were huge—he couldn’t get at her even with his reach. Good thing that she was pretty limber too, because he’d _just_ scratched her jaw. If she’d failed to bend just a bit farther, it would’ve been a grab. She grimaced at the sting. “Who are, you, fire giant dude of Muspell?”

“Avaldi, son of Bodmodr,” he replied with gravity. “Which I am sure you know.”

“And your position is…?”

He looked affronted. Darcy threw her hands up. “Seriously, I don’t _know_ , okay? You’re right, Earth hadn’t been in contact with the Nine Realms for a while and we’re trying to catch up with several centuries’ worth of news and gossip. The only Fire Giant I know by name is _Surtr_. Chief of all the fire giants.”

“He is my uncle,” Avaldi grudgingly clarified. _Fire giant royalty_ , she quickly noted his connection to Surtr in her mind. Adrenaline does _wonders_ for your concentration.

“Great, _thank you_. It’s nice if we can have a civilised conversation, right?” Her timing seemed wrong, though, as it only made him realise that she could stand around and he started lunging again. “Hey! What was that for?”

“You had me relaxing my guard without notice. To stop you soon before you cast your spell seems to be a wise idea.”

“ _No,_ dammit! Look, I don’t even mind if you catch me if I had any idea _what the flying fuck_ made you pissed off at me!” She backed away really quickly when it seemed that he had pulled one dining chair out and had the same plan to climb on top of it like he did with the sofa. He climbed.

Thankfully her survival instinct was well trained with all her field days with Jane. _Run while he’s busy_ , it said and she did.

_Door! Get the fricking door!_

It was a _great_ idea. Even if he had height and reach over her, her head start meant that she managed get through the door before he did. The idea of closing and barricading it rose and was squashed quickly in her mind. Her strength against his? _Nope, not gonna work_. She did the next best thing and started running down the hallway, determined to find a crowd as soon as possible and scream bloody murder. She didn’t even dare to turn back and see how far he was, because that was just asking to get _tripped_.

“Help!” Darcy yelled at the first guard she saw. He stared at her uncomprehending. It wasn’t hard to figure out when he saw Avaldi because his eyes widened and he gaped for a second. The guard rushed in the opposite direction.

She was thankful at him but it didn’t mean she was going to _stop_.

Her decision turned out to be the right one, because she could hear a yelp and a crash behind her. Darcy sighed. What was she expecting, really? The fire giant was built like the line-backer from hell. She reached the end of the corridor and made a random turn to the left. Her lungs started to feel like they were burning. _Crap, I can’t keep up this speed forever_.

A group of beautiful ladies were sedately walking down one side of the corridor. She quickly decided to run to their left, ignoring their surprised looks and hoping their small crowd would hide her. A quick glance back showed that her pursuer hadn’t reached here yet and made the snap decision to open a door not far from her.

It led her to one of the suites. This one smaller than hers though just as sumptuous, the colour scheme mostly white with bronze trim. Worried about making the exact same mistake again, she made sure that there were no bags or belongings here that would imply someone else was already in the room.

 _None at all. Good_. It would save her the explanations.

When she saw that there was a poker next to the fireplace, she took it in no time to bar the door—the doors here were conveniently designed with both advanced as well as traditional means of securing them. That done, she could feel safe in pressing her ear against the door. The chatter of the ladies in the hallway had disappeared completely ( _this is_ so _not like the paper-thin doors in my college apartment_ , Darcy thought idly). The wood had a nice heft to it and made her feel slightly more secure.

Her heartbeat was loud in the silence, rapid and deafening, but she forced herself to wait.

Then, the outraged screams or yells started, loud enough to still be audible through the wood. She grinned, hearing some roars in there too. Then, there were more male voices as well as a few female ones that were had that no-nonsense, take-charge tone she could recognise in any emergency responder. There was no doubt that the scuffle had begun. She waited a bit longer until the voices started dying down again before she slowly opened the door.

The first thing she saw was some maids and handmaidens helping a fainting lady or two. Some of the ladies she’d passed was still unexpectedly there, though—one sat on the floor with a large tome open in front of her, still chanting. A redhead was singing in counterpoint to the first. If she tried listening to what they were singing, the hallways started to look as if it was _curving_ , then somehow it seemed to be a _closed donut loop_ even and a migraine started to develop.

For a moment everything seemed to slow down, the sounds farther than usual.

She saw the same two ladies, but with echoes of armour over their dresses that were more weathered and well-oiled than shiny and ceremonial. A blink, and she saw the redhead on horseback in the middle of a pitched battle, singing. Everyone was barely moving except for the two women, easily dodging the men that were sluggish that they were almost still.

With expert horsemanship, the tome-lady dropped right next to a man that was about to be clobbered to death by six others _with neither hand on the reins_. She was more preoccupied in pulling him up behind her, which she did with ease as if he’d weighed no more than a child. When she and the redhead stopped singing, everyone exploded in motion once more. The confused man was safe in her grasp as her horse had taken off for the air…

Another blink and Darcy was in the corridor again.

People were yelling and running shoes echoing on the marble floors. Now that her ears knew what to find, she could not stop noticing the song the two ladies were still singing in the background. She shook her head. The migraine wasn’t so bad if she just tried to put it out of her mind and focus on other things, like the guards that are still rushing into the scene no longer looked like guards but Asgard’s soldiers.

On the other side of the corridor, the fire giant was certainly restrained. Chains wrapped around him and it was hard to get a clear view of him with all the people around.

Darcy had only planned to lay low until he’d passed the corridor for a while and then run out to the other direction, but if the security in Asgard was this efficient, well, she wasn’t complaining.

Some sort of morbid curiosity had her walking in his direction. The singing duo let their song slowly fade, and the redhead turned to Darcy. She was graceful in that tall and willowy way that the brunette knew she could never be (and still occasionally covet).

“Are you well?”

Darcy’s smile was tired. “Oh, I’m fine. Just tired of running, you know?”

Her lips thinned into a line and she patted Darcy’s hand with a sympathetic look. “I know. Why was he after, you?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Darcy said flippantly, “Love at first sight, maybe? Who knows? He took one look at me and decided to go for it while I was all _hey, wait a second, we need to sit down and talk about this first_. Chasing people around is _not_ conducive for conversation.”

It was the first excuse that came to her mind. She knew enough that accusations of murder really shouldn’t be made lightly or in public. She didn’t want to be another Franz Ferdinand, (albeit a thankfully living one).

Many wars had been started over _less_.

The Asgardian lady managed a sniff, nodding along. “Is that it? It certainly wouldn’t surprise me. I have no idea why the Allfather considers it wise to extend his invitation to the barbarians.”

Darcy’s mouth opened and then closed again without a sound. Whatever she had expected to hear, it wasn’t that. “Um. Maybe he was just too overcome with feelings just now? He might just be a normal guy to his friends, you know?”

She had no idea why she said that, to be honest. Yet even if Avaldi was bad-tempered and sucked at listening to people or trying to think things through, she was quite sure he didn’t plan on trying to kill her before he even set foot on Asgard. He probably thought his trip was going to be a normal one…as normal as it would be for an angry giant, anyway.

“Your generosity is commendable but completely unnecessary,” the Asgardian lady assured her.

“Ah…thanks.” Darcy said, because she was running out of things to say, too confused with what she’d just heard. The opinion made her think about what was going to happen next, though.

Or what was going to happen to Avaldi next.

She could see that the Asgardians had secured him, though she thought the amount of restraints used was a bit of an overkill. There were enough chains on him to deck a heavy metal stage, while the stern and forbidding looks of the soldiers had her walking forward before she realised it.

Darcy didn’t hear the singer trying to call her, too focused ahead.

“Hey. _Hey_ , where are you guys taking him?” She stepped right in front of a guard to get his attention.

“The prison, my Lady.”

“Under what reason?”

Asking _what for_ might be ignorant. Asking _under what reason_ was actually a good question, as it depends on what laws are in place in a particular region or country.

“You have nothing to worry about. Lady Darcy. Lady Gylla has confirmed about who you are. She is also prepared to find Lady Freya if there are still people who doubt you. As an Ambassador to Asgard, any affront against you is one against Asgard.” He said.

“That’s…very reassuring. Thank you.” Darcy murmured. The guard accepted it with an easy nod and moved away, probably taking her quietness for something akin to demure princess behaviour instead of a distracted Darcy.

“I want to know why he attacked me, though. I wish to ask him about it.”

“There is certainly no need to risk your safety, my Lady. We will place the criminal in a secure place. You can certainly return to settle your own affairs now as we have this under control.”

Something in Darcy’s mind began putting together at all the things she’d heard. _The criminal_ , he says. _Barbarians_ , another has pointed out before. No one was surprised that he had tried something.

The brunette could see that Avaldi was still protesting his condition, disagreeing with their treatment of him. The fire giant was just straight an out-and-out ornery bastard that she couldn’t imagine him being a secret assassin lurking in her bathroom, waiting for the right time to jump out. But if he wasn’t, why was he there? She scanned ahead, wishing to find someone she knew. There was Gylla, of course, but she was only checking to make sure that everything was under control and was moving away. She wasn’t who Darcy was looking for. All the other soldiers, the Einherjar, was a sombre-looking lot and it was hard staring at all the golden armours and trying to find a familiar face.

A head of dark hair on a beautiful and stern face caught her attention. That, and the full suit of armour she was wearing and the big-ass sword.

“Sif!” Darcy almost bit her lip when she realised what she’d said. “I mean, _Lady_ Sif! I’d like to beg, err, request your time! If it’s not a pain in the ass I mean—oh _shoot_ , I should’ve said something else.”

The hasty cough she could hear coming from the other woman sounded a lot like a failed chuckle. Darcy allowed herself to relax slightly.

“It’s a bit too late to start calling me Lady Sif, isn’t it?” She was polite, but Darcy was sure there was an ironic tone to it deep down.

“I just thought that it might be something I need to do when on official business, y’know? It’s different compared to before, when I wasn’t really all that official, anyway,” Darcy answered.

“Are you really here on official business?”

“Yes. You’re looking at the current Ambassador of Earth,” Darcy said with pride. Sif gave her a formal nod of respect.

“Congratulations, Darcy. Now, was there something you need?”

Darcy could understand the warrior’s desire to cut through the chit-chat, she was in the middle of something. Darcy just happened to want to get into that something as well.

“I need to be in a room with Avaldi,” Darcy stated.

Sif sent her a sharp glance, and the few other warriors who heard her had at least briefly turned their heads too. Whether they did so in surprise or disbelief, she had no idea.

“I think this is all just a misunderstanding.”

“Are you trying to say that he had _not_ just attempted to kill you?” Sif asked, one of her eyebrows rising.

“Well, it would seem that he did, but what I’m _saying_ is that the situation is more complicated than that. I need to talk to him. Heck, _he_ needs to talk to me. I don’t mind if some warriors or other Asgardians are going to be involved too, but the conversation needs to happen.”

“ _Needs to_ , really?” Sif was sceptical.

Darcy could see it clearly now. If she kept at the same tack, it would take hours—hours she wasn’t sure either she or Avaldi had. Her decision made, she took a deep breath.

“Well, otherwise we’d never figure out who’d could’ve set both me and Avaldi up, would we?”

 _That_ certainly brought the attention of the people around her.

‘-

Regardless of all the people that suddenly started to find her interesting, or send her questioning looks in the hopes of getting a hint, Darcy only smiled but said nothing else. All the better to heighten the sense of mystery and anticipation for what she might say!

To tell the truth, there wasn’t any evidence of a grand conspiracy or anything, only that it _might_ be there.

Might be.

Well, as she’d amply demonstrated right there and then, Darcy _could_ say she was trying to settle a misunderstanding—and get herself ignored and pushed aside by the guards and warriors. _Or_ she could say that there’s the _possibility_ of conspiracy and get people to actually stand aside and let her _do her thing_ and help them get to the bottom of whatever is rotten in the state of ~~Denmark~~ Asgard. You know, as in the talking and negotiating thing? _Diplomacy_? Yeah, that’s her shtick here, okay?

Come on, she’s not even _lyin_ g!

So of course she was going to use the Lewis Ultimate Ability of Bullshitting. Any tool that gets the job done, right?

With a calm she wasn’t exactly feeling, Darcy left behind the impromptu rear guard that Sif was certainly a part of, making her way forward to walk close to Avaldi. Not that the fire giant appreciated it at _all_ , of course. The moment he saw her, he started growling again in a way that made one of the guards try to tighten his chain. Which must’ve made it even more uncomfortable for him to walk. She sighed and accepted that she’d just bring trouble for him for now and stepped back again. No talking until they reached their destination, it seems.

She wanted to sigh but held it back because she was trying to keep her I-know-something-that-you-don’t face intact. Gotta look kinda mysterious y’know?

Darcy bit her lip.

What most people forgot to write in most thriller novels is that there’s a lot of waiting for the right timing or moment. And _that_ was _really_ boring.

‘-

They ended up in one of Asgard’s high-tech cells. Several guards had brought in a table from somewhere. One of the warriors would have forced the fire giant down to sit on one end of the table if Darcy hadn’t asked him to please wait.

“Right, would you like to sit down?” Darcy asked Avaldi. Sif had gone to stand at one of the corners of the room to unobtrusively observe.

“And if I say no?”

“Well, suit yourself. I’ll just sit here while we talk, though, because my legs need a break from all the running.”

A low rumble grew in his chest. “Must we go through this whole charade, Asgardian?”

Darcy rolled her eyes. “Now see, _that_ is why we need to talk. You’re absolutely, hands-down, wrong on that count. Here, let me start again. My name is Darcy Lewis of Earth. Sif, Fandral, Hogun and Volstagg had met me when I was still on earth, they could swear on that. Heck, even _Thor_ could swear on that, but I’m afraid he’s currently not around for you to meet. I’m here on a very particular purpose too, as Ambassador of Midgard to Asgard. Now, who are you, Avaldi, son of Bodmodr?”

If she was sitting straight on the chair, she’d be having neck pains from having to stare up and _up_ at the standing fire giant. That was why she sat a bit more forward on the chair than usual just to be able to lean back. Darcy didn’t care how weird it might look to the Asgardians.

“She’s right. She’s not an Asgardian at all” Sif ventured as she strode to Darcy’s left. “What is difficult to understand is why you keep insisting that she is, and why _you_ would try to kill the first Ambassador of Midgard in centuries. I would’ve thought that if war was your purpose, you’d not begin with something as cowardly as an assassination.”

That riled him. He surged forward, pulling his chains with him, prompting the warriors to pull back.

“I DO NOT ASSASSINATE PEOPLE.”

Darcy had both of her hands over her ears in no time. “Yeeeesh, no need to _yell_. Come on, take the other seat and explain. I still don’t know why you’re here in Asgard, Avaldi. Come on, tell me something about yourself.”

She waited while Avaldi kept looking disgruntled.

There was a sigh to her left and Sif spoke up. “He’s the ambassador of the fire giants to Asgard.”

Darcy’s eyes widened. “What, _seriously?_ ”

It seemed to be the entirely wrong answer. His expression grew thunderous.

“Do you doubt my ability?”

“No! Relax! Come on, let’s just sit and talk. It can’t be _that_ hard,” Darcy huffed. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. Look, _I’m_ the ambassador of Earth to Asgard, _you’re_ the ambassador of Muspell to Asgard. We almost had an interstellar incident—doesn’t that smell fishy to you? What are the odds that two different ambassadors are going to step on each other’s toes, _on the very first day?_ ”

This is where Jane usually starts saying something about _Bayesian inference_. Considering that Darcy passed her last statistics class only due to Jane’s help, usually she’d just let her friend go on.

 _Damn. Never thought I’d miss Jane’s rants already_.

Darcy’s assurances were enough to make Avaldi less tense. The guards who were trying to hold back his chains were probably glad they didn’t have to strain as hard. It didn’t last, though. Something was weighing in his mind.

“But you cannot possibly be Midgardian.”

“Why?”

“You are a magician.” Avaldi said, surprising everyone in the room. Darcy continued as if his reply didn’t bring whole lot of new questions in her mind, or unnerved her.

“I didn’t even cast _anything_ in your presence,” Darcy answered. “Wouldn’t I have started throwing snowballs at you or something if I _could_ do magic and I felt threatened in your presence? It’s not as if there’s anything to restrain my magic in the room, is there?”

That seemed to have stumped him for a moment. He shook his head.

“That may be, but it was how I was not completely surprised when you entered the bath. I could feel your magic. It was unruly.”

“And if I was actually trying to kill you, wouldn’t I have hidden my presence better?”

“And yet you poured _cold water_ on _me_!” He snapped.

She rolled her eyes. “I was trying to take a bath in my rooms! Of course I poured cold water into the bath.”

“ _You_ were in my rooms! And you shouldn’t have poured water.”

Darcy paused. Yes, yes she did. But why was that a concern? She stared at Avaldi and his dark-red colouring, with the occasional vein glowing slightly from under his skin where it was thin, like the back of his hands or his face. His skin (hide?) on one side of his shoulders seemed to be of a more faded colouration. Some of it even flaked away (though she could see nothing much but more tough hide beneath it).

She gaped. Darcy stood up, scanning the floor of the chambers, especially along the path from the doors to Avaldi’s seat. She found what she was looking for—she went around and picked up the small flakes of faded red on the floor. _Skin_. He had been shedding skin, perhaps for a while.

Her heart felt like it had just dropped to her stomach. Her voice was soft.

“I’ve _hurt_ you.”

He snorted. “Not for lack of trying. If I was any of my weaker brethren, you would have.”

“We need a medic here,” Darcy said, turning to Sif. The warrior was surprisingly game in letting her try to run her own interview instead of just taking over. “What do you think, Sif? A medic?”

The Asgardian stepped forward. Sif had slipped back into the background and Darcy hadn’t even noticed it.

“Oh, it’s more like a bad sunburn than anything for him, isn’t it Avaldi? Would you like a medic?”

“ _No_. I would like this wench to be hold accountable for her assassination attempt.” He snapped, seemingly not that bothered about his own discoloured skin. Darcy asked for a medic to one of the guards, who doubted, but one glance at Sif who did not even blink or react assured him of her position. He went off.

Sif nodded knowingly at Avaldi, even as Darcy fretted and couldn’t stop looking away from him.

“And yet if we do that, we would need to hold _you_ for _your_ assassination attempt too.” Sif said.

“She started everything! I was not about to kill her right there—I would have challenged her in an arena. It wouldn’t be proper otherwise.”

Sif leaned forward on the table, right in front of Avaldi’s face. “You see, that is where we have a problem. The rooms you mentioned are clearly assigned to Lady Darcy, Ambassador of Midgard. Out of the two of you, _you_ are the one who has no reason to be found there. She has all the right to it. Perhaps you thought you could gain an advantage if you moved quickly against her, before people actually paid attention to the guests coming.”

“I would _not_ have been so cowardly against such a slip of a girl,” he barked. Darcy was absolutely not offended by that statement. She was fucking _relieved_. The less reason people have to kill her, the better.

“Who gave you your rooms, Avaldi?” Darcy spoke up. “You have just arrived today, correct?”

He huffed. “Yes. It was one of the infinitely many handmaidens you have here. What does it matter?”

“But it does, matter. That woman would be the first accomplice of who knows how many who plans ill-will in Asgard,” Sif finished, standing back. His brows furrowed at the words.

“Why would they do that? The wench could not have managed to kill me,” Avaldi said.

“But you may very well have killed her,” Sif replied, unmoved and professional while Darcy tried to ignore the shiver that ran down her back. The weight of the whole thing had only hit her just now. “How do you feel about being used as someone else’s weapon?”

The snarl that ripped through him was genuine.

“And perhaps the plan wasn’t just to remove me—once you’re done being their cat’s paw, you would be guilty and captured and they would also remove _you_ from play.” Darcy finished, meeting his dark blue gaze. “Killing two birds with one stone.”

 _Efficient_ , she thought _if it had worked_. She felt angry and scared than impressed, but she had to give the schemer his or her due.

“Although…would anyone wish to remove him, truly?” Sif asked Darcy this time.

“Avaldi is clearly the Ambassador of the Muspells, isn’t he?”

“Of the Muspellir? Yes. Not that he has a lot of diplomacy to speak of,” Sif answered dryly.

“If you dare to insult me, at least challenge me to my face!”

“Oh, I certainly will,” Sif said this with an ominous smile. “Of course, _after_ everything else is settled.”

Darcy stepped in right before he started pulling against his chains again and before Sif said anything that set him off even more.

“Well, whatever Avaldi is or isn’t doing, it would certainly still be better than if the fire giants _have no ambassador at all_. No observer on the ground, no representative, _nothing_. And that is the least that would happen if the Muspellir were seen to wish to start a war against Asgard.” The brunette finished.

That quieted everyone down. Sif was thinking, but even Avaldi had things he’d need to mull over for a while.

“All of this is brilliant enough to be Loki’s plan, but he has not been in Asgard for a long while,” Sif said.

There was the slightest annoyance marring the warrior’s perfectly cool tone. Darcy had to hold back the urge to state that she _knew_ Loki. He wouldn’t have done it. A more sentimental woman would have said because she knew he loved her and wouldn’t have done it.

But has she ever been sentimental when it came to him?

As a woman who saw Loki with her eyes open, she would say that he would not have schemed for something so small and yet failed both of his targets completely. More than just efficient, Loki was _effective_. He’d managed to retrieve the chalice he was looking for, even when caught in a trap set by the Avengers. He’d still managed to escape after that too. If he’d wanted her to actually wound Avaldi, the water tank in her room would probably be filled with _ice cubes_. The part of her that had been Jane’s assistant would also like to point out that it didn’t have to be _water ice_. Dry ice was really effin’ cold, for one, and hadn’t she thought of _that_ alternative easily with her lack of weird chemistry/science background?

She couldn’t imagine what Jane can come up with if told to go wild.

Or Loki.

As for killing _her_ , her mind shied away and refused to even begin contemplating the scenarios, but she knew it wasn’t hard. What was a human compared to a fire giant? Or a frost giant? Or an Asgardian? The assassination should be much easier to plan for… and yet she’s still alive even now.

(Not that it matters that a part of her still didn’t want to believe he could do it. Not to her).

“There’s always the mysterious handmaiden to find, isn’t there?” Darcy asked instead.

Sif nodded. “Yes. That’s a good point to start as any.”

‘-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd actually call the events here a _mutual_ accidental assassination attempt.
> 
> Next update will take some time (read: more than a month), because I want to build up my excess chapters as well as properly map out the plot. There's at least three major ones now, (1) Earth, (2) Jötunheim and (3) Asgard, and I want to keep them all tight and still closely interwoven with each other. (I hadn't even planned it that way from the beginning and I don't know how I write myself into this sort of sprawl -__-;). There's also a bloody conference I need to go to that I feel absolutely unprepared for as well.
> 
> Not a lot of fire giants are mentioned in Norse mythology, if at all, so I have to come up with some other people other than Surtr, somehow. Hence the existence of Bodmodr and Avaldi. Also, I can’t really come up with any actors that could play Avaldi—just didn’t have any particular image in mind when writing. Plus, he’s not being anything more than a pain-in-the-rear just yet.
> 
>  
> 
> Glossary, Schmossary:
> 
> **_Franz Ferdinand_ :** An Austro-Hungarian Royal Prince of Hungary and Bohemia and heir-presumptive to the Austro-Hungarian throne. The assassination of the Archduke Franz Ferdinand in Sarajevo was basically the straw that broke the camel’s back and started the First World War. The tensions between the nations were already there from before that, though.
> 
>  ** _Muspellir_ :** People of Muspelheim – fire giants, obviously. I formed this based on the word ‘Muspell’ and then I went forth to find the plural nominative form of it. Tada, we have Muspellir. Why did I actually have to construct a new word to describe the fire giants? Because Jötunn can actually be used to describe giants in general, not just frost giants*, but that might be a bit confusing here. So, I decided to just call a single fire giant a Muspell here, and call a group of them Muspellir.
> 
> *sorry, no sources for now since I forgot to note it down. I can chase it if someone’s really curious, but it's going to take time.
> 
> **_Surtr_ :** (mythology) according to the _Poetic Edda_ , a giant. The _Prose Edda_ mentioned that he was a defender of Múspell, a fiery realm. There’s also a whole lot of stuff about how he has a flaming sword he was going to wage war against the Aesir with at the end of the world. And stuff. You know how it is with prophecies.


	34. XXXIV. Strangers Are Just Friends You Don't Know Yet (Infirmary Visit)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Darcy goes to the infirmary. The healer took a shortcut. Darcy meets Eir of Asgard. An insight to the Einherjar. The Ophidiarium. Malmury illuminates Nine Realm politics for Darcy. Darcy drops in for a chat._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the weird update schedule. My personal life is still a bit of a mess. I just thought it's better to update now than wait until next week.
> 
> Eir is played by the inestimable Alice Krige as always (love her Borg Queen, really). In which Paul Bettany takes a break from playing Jarvis for a while and makes some cameo appearances as Osvald the Healer. Feast is still next chapter, because I need to get Darcy to notice stuff first.

### XXXIV. Strangers Are Just Friends You Don't Know Yet (Infirmary Visit)

Darcy was tired, _still_ hadn’t had lunch and was thus understandable annoyed when she was insistently brought (just short of being dragged) to the infirmary. Other than the prickly, brown-haired healer there were two warriors escorting her; one to the front and one to their rear.

“I’m _fine_ ,” she insisted. The junior healer at her arm was nonplussed, his brows creasing.

“Truthfully, you _would_ have been fine, my Lady, if you did not insist on _touching the Muspell_.”

“He’s a cranky bastard and I don’t see _you_ managing to bandage him quickly if I don’t lend a hand.” Darcy pointed out. No matter how much she pulled, the healer wouldn’t let go of her left hand. He was staring at it most insistently after he stated that she shouldn’t touch anything with it.

“ _Lady Darcy_ ,”

“Yes?”

“You are Midgard’s Ambassador to Asgard, correct?” He asked.

“Well, yeah?”

“You are aware that humans _cannot_ stand the natural body temperature of either giants?” How the healer managed to enunciate all the words perfectly while she was certain he was also gritting his teeth, she had no idea. With his narrow face, his expression was intimidatingly sour indeed. On the other hand, she was grateful to know that not _all_ Asgardians look perfectly supermodel-like.

“And now, your hand is burnt, _my Lady_.”

Darcy was impressed. To her ears, his British accent was the most obvious out of all the Asgardians she’d met. Even with his Queen’s English, he still managed to make _my lady_ sound like an insult.

“Nah, that can’t be right. It doesn’t hurt at all. I did manage to wrap the bandage all the way, didn’t I?” She replied flippantly.

“That shade of red could not be natural, nor is the clear liquid covering it.” The healer pointed out. When she still seemed sceptical, he sighed. “Lady Darcy, please note that you’ve left me with no other choice. I will now hold your hand.”

“Just like that?”

“Yes. I have sterilised it before we left. Now, if you will allow me—”

He squeezed the base of her thumb and Darcy yelped. “ _Shit!_ Um, sorry—”

“No need to apologise—I am the one who owed you apologies, and yet it was necessary,” the healer had let go just as quickly. He’d raised an eyebrow when she cursed, but made no particular comment. “It would seem that you had been insulated against the pain before and it is now wearing off.”

Darcy wasn’t really paying attention all that much because she was too busy whimpering. _Now_ her left palm felt thick with throbbing pain that was distracting. And hurts like all hell.

“It… _really_ hadn’t hurt.” Darcy complained.

“Yes, I’m beginning to see that you truly did not feel it before. It is a most irregular occurrence.” As he said this, the warrior in front of them had opened the grand double doors to that Darcy guessed to lead to the infirmary. The healer gave a brisk nod of thanks for the assistance and continued pulling Darcy along his predetermined path.

The first thing she smelled was the fresh grass and wildflowers. Next, she heard _birds_.

Darcy had expected to see rows and rows of beds. What she saw instead was a _garden_. An indoor garden inside what was possibly the largest greenhouse she had ever seen. To her immediate left and right were a pair of gigantic oak trees, towering more than two stories high, with smaller trees growing at careful distance from them. Below the trees were beds of flowers, shrubs and bushes—they may look wild, but the way the eye is drawn along the paths or towards a clearing spoke of a subtle arrangement underlying them. The glass ceiling was so far away that she could barely see the metal skeleton supporting it—all she could see was the blue sky.

A bird or two flew above her. She could hear the calls of several more. Darcy gaped as she stared around.

There were greenhouses-within-greenhouses of differing sizes and they were about to enter one of them.

“Um,”

“Don’t be concerned; the path is truly in this direction. We’re approaching the ward for the royal family and guests requiring high security.” He answered.

“Err, no, I wasn’t concerned about that. I was wondering why we’re in a greenhouse in the first place.”

That seemed to surprise him and he slowed down. “Of course we have a terrarium—we _are_ on the infirmary’s grounds.”

He seemed to think that it was enough to answer her question and moved on again.

She made a face as they entered the smaller greenhouse, because that hadn’t exactly clarified much for her. The trees were denser here, the canopy covering more of the sunlight that it was darker. Here, there were thigh-high bushes to the left and right of the path—the bushes hid the low fence behind it. Squinting and trying to make out the shapes behind the leaves and twigs, she was quite sure that the fence also had a mesh of metal or some sort between the posts. The air was thick with the smell of lush greenery now, clinging to her with a dampness she didn’t feel before. When the path branched, he took the left turn.

“What’s the fence for?”

The healer turned to her. “Oh, you noticed it?”

“I _do_ pay attention to my surroundings.” She replied dryly.

“We do our best to ensure that it’s unobtrusive,” he assured. “As most people would wonder why there is even a fence in the first place.”

“So, uh, _why?_ There wasn’t any in the previous paths.”

He sighed. “We’re not that far from the infirmary. I promise that I will answer your question there.”

“Why?”

“Please, Lady Darcy. Most people would panic. I realise that you are within your rights to insist that you are not most people, but I would rather not take the risk.”

He was looking even more put upon than he had been before when she kept insisting that her hand didn’t hurt. She relented and let him have his peace for now as they continued walking down the path. The trees here have more vines and other creeping plants over them. She was also certain that it wasn’t just her feeling that the place was warmer than it was in the larger greenhouse.

She had also noticed that it was quiet—too quiet. No bird calls were heard there. There were the occasional sounds of leaves rustling against branches… _but wasn’t there no wind indoors?_

“Is it just me or is the place a bit… _creepy?_ ”

Darcy felt very glad that a pair of doors were now visible in front of them. _Infirmary! Hopefully_. The Asgardian healer seemed more distracted as the doors opened for them.

“No, it is only quiet. It makes sense as the prey creatures do not live long before they’re eaten, and those that survive for a while are also quiet.” He seemed to be going through a list in his head. “It is _also_ not feeding time.”

A shiver ran down Darcy’s spine.

“ _Prey?!_ ”

The infirmary hallway was brighter than the greenhouse; the source of light was clear, as the right side of its walls were covered with windows. The floor gleamed with bronze marble shot with threads of gold. On the other side of the corridor were doors that she assumed lead to various rooms and wards.

The healer turned to her with a sigh, regretting that he’d given her the answer so easily.

“They’re well-trained, really. There is no need to be concerned—you came with me, and there is no way they would have thought that you were an intruder.” He answered quickly. Darcy stared him down.

“And _they_ are…?”

“Well, snakes, of course. The medicine would have had to come from _somewhere_.”

The rustling she’d heard in the trees took on a more ominous interpretation now.

“ _WHAT?!_ ”

‘-

Darcy’s surprised yelp as she ran headlong into the infirmary seemed to have summoned the regal woman with light blue robes out of one of the chambers. She wouldn’t know which one; she hadn’t been paying attention.

“Hadn’t we had this talk before, _Osvald_? About how necessary it is to have soothing bedside manners?” the woman turned to the healer that had accompanied her. The brunet Asgardian couldn’t be said to be embarrassed, but he _was_ slightly more contrite than before.

“We needed to reach the infirmary quickly, and we took the shortcut through the ophidiarium,” he admitted.

A sigh. “Osvald _, really_.”

“Lady Darcy had mostly first degree burns without the pain,” he spoke quickly. “I’ve never encountered such symptoms before, I thought it best that you see it for yourself as soon as possible. We both know it’s not a risk, My Lady, the snakes recognise me.”

Seeing as the place he called _ophidiarium_ was also the greenhouse that had snakes in it, Darcy made up her mind that it was the name for some form of snake aquarium.

The lady healer’s expression was one of curiosity now as she turned to Darcy.

“Lady Darcy, is it? My name is Eir, Head of the Infirmary. I wish we had met in a better situation.”

“I’m Darcy Lewis of Midgard and I’m pleased to meet you. Trust me, we could’ve met under even worse circumstances. For example, we could both be trying to escape a dragon.” It brought a smile on the healer’s face.

Darcy was concerned about being required to curtsy when one of her hand was definitely out-of-service. She was glad when a firm nod was the only thing that Eir did, and she returned it easily.

“Lady Eir is the best Healer in Asgard,” the healer—Osvald(?)—added, “if not the whole Nine Realms.”

“Osvald is exaggerating.”

“Not by much,” he replied, leading them all away. “Now, I’m sure we can use one of the exam rooms here…”

Lady Eir had a small smile on her face. When she saw Darcy had been staring, she clarified, “that young man has a one-track mind. When he’s doing medicine, he _will_ do medicine.”

To be honest she’d never thought of him as _young_. Well, he’s not exactly old, but youthful and just-out-of-teenagehood he isn’t. Osvald looked as if he was in his thirties. The spectacles he wore did not help (that made her wonder—don’t all Asgardians have perfect eyesight?)

“And, uh, he’s still young?” Darcy asked.

“Oh, yes. Only around two centuries. To be fair, not many of his peers still have his intense enthusiasm beyond their first century of training. Please do not underestimate his skill due to his age.”

“Ah, _right_ ,” Darcy managed to say while nodding. “I will never, _ever_ do that. Really. I’m prepared to swear on this.”

Considering that she was barely over a _tenth_ of Osvald’s age, it wasn’t as if she was going to doubt his experience. Eir seemed to truly be glad for her assurance, though.

“Thank you. I’m sure you won’t regret it.”

‘-

The examination room Darcy ended up in was comfortable—it looked more like a fancy hotel room she’d see in those airline magazines than a clinic. There was a _couch_ as well as a bed, and both Eir and Osvald insisted that she rest for now. Eir herself plumped more than enough pillows to support her back while Osvald went off to get some sort of burn paste for her hand. This was after he’d finished telling Eir all that had happened. He kept sending reproachful looks at Darcy while he was telling the story, while she just kept her wide gullible smile at that. Eir seemed to be more understanding of her urge to _do something_ —even if that something meant sticking her nose in a cranky fire giant’s business. The large French windows lead to a flower garden with several orange trees (she suspected that all this was yet inside another greenhouse), and the scent of orange blossoms lulled her to a relaxed mood.

Lady Eir took a seat next to the couch, holding Darcy’s left hand between both of hers. One was laid below it while the other had a thumb against her artery, perfectly placed to pick up her heartbeat.

The healer closed her eyes and said nothing for a long while. Darcy would’ve thought that she’d fallen asleep if she’d never seen people meditating before. When Eir spoke up again, the heaviness in her eyes made Darcy certain that she _had_ drifted to sleep while waiting for the healer to say something.

“Osvald was not wrong—this _is_ something he had not seen before.”

“Oh?”

Eir opened her eyes, her irises blazed an odd robin’s egg blue. Darcy could almost feel the air around her vibrating. “Regardless of his more than a century of medicine practice here now, he is still uncomfortable handling cases with substantial magical component in them. Your experience is not highly unusual, Lady Darcy.”

“Please, just _Darcy_. I keep getting reminded to sit straighter and fix my posture whenever someone calls me Lady Darcy.” Not that Darcy did now. She was too comfortable leaning back against all the pillows. She remembered that Loki’s pillows were just as comfy. When she gets back to earth, she was sure she’d get some Asgardian pillows for herself.

The healer smiled. She looked far younger than her matronly ways had lead Darcy to guess. “Only if you call me Eir. Now this is something you don’t need to worry about before.”

“ _This_? What is this that we’re talking about, anyway?”

“Something anyone dealing with a novice magician would know.” Eir answered.

Darcy gaped. She was too surprised to say anything at this point.

“You didn’t feel the burn on your palm because your awakened magic has now started to pre-emptively reduce your discomfort—clearly first-degree burns are included in that. Since the trigger was probably an instinctive defensive reaction, the reason why it had eased up on its own afterwards may have been due to the sense that danger had passed. You have relaxed, Darcy, and your magic relaxes with you.”

_But I’m not a sorceress…_

Darcy’s thoughts trailed away into nothing. Eir was the third person now to have made that observation. The first was the errant princeling she’d tripped upon and the second was Avaldi the Muspell. She wasn’t _that_ dense to ignore all the signs thrown her way. And hadn’t Loki said something about how it would be much better for her to have magic? Eir did not seem to register her surprise, or perhaps it was because the healer was more than a little caught up in her thoughts.

“I can see that you were still a novice magician because if you were more experienced, you would have learned how to direct your magic more productively than simply easing pain. It _is_ a little useless to ease pain and yet still endure actual harm.” She explained to Darcy’s still shocked expression.

“Those learned in the healing arts would have trained their magic to direct itself to those purposes, healing the burn as it occurs. Those with a fine control would have shielded themselves with it laid a thin shell right over their skin, preventing the burn from even taking place. Others would…oh, I’m sorry, I’m boring you right now, aren’t I?”

“Oh no, not at all! I’m just…surprised, that’s all.” She waved it away. “I didn’t even know that magic was real until a year or two ago. Then, bam! _Congrats, you have magic!_ I haven’t really accepted that all of this is _real_.”

“Oh dear, I hope I haven’t overwhelmed you.”

Darcy smiled and shook her head. “No, Jane could go on about her research and stars and stuff for a lot longer than you just did. Sometimes she’d forget that I don’t know as much as her and expect that I understood _all_ of it. I’m still not drowning in jargon right now, so you’re doing great, really.”

“That is good to know.” The healer paused, her right hand slightly raised mid-air but stopped there. Darcy waited as she seemed to struggle through some inner thoughts. “Pardon me for being intrusive, but you say that you’ve only realised you have magic _recently_? I know that not all those with magical potential show the most obvious signs, but someone with your level of reserves would surely have more than one magical accidents?”

 _My_ level _of magical reserve? What?_

It was Darcy’s turn to be surprised. “How do you…no, never mind. I’m sure you will tell me that you can detect it with _your_ magic, right?”

A nod was her answer. “That, and you’re untrained enough to have not begun shielding yourself. Anyone who is trained in sensing can try to gauge your potential.”

“Well, y’see, I didn’t have it since birth,” Darcy said, deciding that there really was no harm in coming clean to the healer. _There’s always those doctor-patient confidentiality clause, right?_ “There was a bit of an accident and voila! I have magic.”

Eir’s eyes widened. “An _accident_.”

“Yeah. I fell into this pool of _genius loci_ mana, or whatever you call it. All I knew was, when I was down there, there were a _lot_ of these shining balls of light that sort of…fell into me. All those glow balls got sucked in for who-knows-what-reason.”

“I…see.”

She was saying it in a tone that meant she was still trying to process it.

“Well, if you ask me, I recommend that you find a teacher soon enough. The next time you decide to help bandage a fire giant, you would at least avoid burning yourself,” she said wryly.

Darcy inwardly cringed. Yeah, like she knew a lot of magicians she could pester for instruction… _not_.

“Ah, okay. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

‘-

“You have _magic?_ ” Osvald asked, both of his eyebrows rising.

“Yeah, weird, right? I keep forgetting that.” She said.

After the princeling, Avaldi and even Eir’s conviction that she had magic, the junior healer’s scepticism was actually a welcome reaction (as well as the speed he accepted her request to just be called _Darcy_ , no lady-anything). His disbelief was one she was far more familiar with, considering that it was also her initial emotion. He had arrived once more with the burn paste after Darcy and Eir had chatted a while about humans with magic. After they’d finished treating and wrapping her hand, Eir explained her diagnosis to him, and how Darcy was probably going to heal at a faster rate than normal humans. Then, the senior healer left him to escort her back to her rooms. _Or new rooms_ , Darcy thought, _whichever_.

Darcy insisted that she was _not_ going to go through the ophidiarium this time and Osvald complied easily because they weren’t trying to arrive faster.

“You’re _human_. I know you are.” He said.

“Yep. I know I am.” Darcy’s reply was cheerful.

“Humans _don’t_ have magic.”

The smile on Darcy’s face only grew wider. “Oh, trust me, buddy, I’ve been there too. I keep saying at all these Asgardians and giants and _whatever_ that I don’t have magic, but no, they keep insisting I do. And then I remembered there was this magical accident I had before, so I just come to terms with it now.”

“But _humans_ don’t have _magic_.” He stubbornly insisted.

“Not _really_. You know, before you came back, I had a nice long chat with Eir. She said that she’d known many human shamans and medicine-men/women in her own time, so it’s not that much of a surprise to her. She just hadn’t expected to meet more humans with magic _now_.”

He muttered something about how he’d never expected witches to be real, so _of course_ they must be real, because they just have to ruin his expectations like that. Because everything he knew back then just _had_ to be proven wrong. He sounded as if he was complaining more against himself than because he didn’t believe in Darcy’s words for some reason, and it made her curious.

“Oh, Eir also said something of how you’ve avoided the highly magical cases at the infirmary. You’ve got an issue with magic? I think you need to deal with it, though. Can’t be a full healer in this place without it.” She mused out loud.

“I’m quite aware of that. Yet, I _still_ have an issue with magic,” his reply was dry. “It’s not supposed to exist. Earth has gone through most of her history completely fine without it. Natural philosophy has gone on just fine without it.”

“Jane says that magic is just physics we don’t understand yet,” Darcy said distractedly.

“ _Truly?_ ” He didn’t sound as if he believed it at all, but was considering about giving it a second chance.

Darcy came to a halt and turned around. It was not just his ideas that stopped her. It was his words. _Earth_ , he said. She knew that most people in Asgard used Allspeak, which is a language with some kick-ass magical translation algorithm built the fabric of the _universe_ or something. But she had noticed before when speaking with Thor and Loki that earth was always translated into _Midgard_ , which she guessed was the original, Asgardian-language word for it from before the Nine Realms had Allspeak—and experience with Thor and Loki taught her that Proper Names are one of the few things left untranslated.

For someone to be able to call earth as _Earth_ , she would bet that he’d known (and spoke) some earth languages.

“You can speak an earth language,” Darcy stated out of the blue. “You don’t only speak Allspeak.”

He nodded, as if it wasn’t such a big deal. “Well, of course. I spoke English. I’ve been speaking half in English and half in Allspeak with you when I realised that you could speak it, though I understand that some words have drifted in meaning and some…colloquialisms have changed. Hence why I simply use Allspeak at other times—it helped translate your more unfamiliar phrases too.”

Darcy’s brain was still looping at one sentence as they continued to walk down the corridors, easily ignoring the other people walking in it.

 _He spoke_ _English??_

She held his left arm in excitement. “I’m going to sound crazy, but you can’t imagine how giddy I am right now. How did you manage to speak _English_?” She fired off her sentences in high speed. She could see an amused smile rising on the healer’s face.

“The easiest way of all,” he replied, actually giving her an ironic bow with his statement, “by having lived in England.”

Darcy had to forcibly shut her mouth before she gaped like a goldfish. “You’re British, aren’t you?”

“I’m in the Royal Navy. I _was_ , at any rate. Now, I’m an Asgardian like any of them. As you can see, the ranks of the Einherjar is not just taken from the Aesir or Vanir. Even when it’s rare these days, the Valkyries do rescue the occasional dying humans too to give them a second chance.” He clarified. Now he had an actual smile on his face and he did not look as forbidding as he had before. Darcy’s brain was still trying to comprehend his statements.

“I thought the Einherjar are…soldiers.”

“And soldiers and sailors need surgeons in the field too.” He answered.

She saw him in a new light. “Wow, you’re a _combat medic_. My brother had a healthy respect for you guys, especially since he’d been pulled out of danger more than once by them. A lot of the docs he knew had ice in their veins—that’s what he said. How else were they still able to keep their cool even under fire?”

Now it was his turn to look at her curiously. “Your brother took the King’s shilling?”

Only years of reading historical romance made her understand what he was talking about. “He’s in the army, but neither of us are British. I thought that was obvious from the accent.” Darcy clarified.

“Who knows how far the language had drifted in a century or so.”

“True enough.” She replied.

“So, what country are you from?”

“America,” she answered with a grin, fully prepared to see how he took it. She was amply rewarded; he almost stumbled on his step as he made a complete turn to face her fully.

“What? The _Colonies?_ The Ambassador of Earth is an _American?_ I’m sorry, it’s just…had the French rallied and truly become the Republic they could be, I can believe that. Maybe the Austrians or some other German empire could manage…but to presume that the Austrians are leading in international affairs instead of England is merely to trade one autocrat for another, no matter how familiar.”

He shook his head. “I’d much prefer the Republic.”

Darcy couldn’t help it; she laughed. It was probably the sheer _disbelief_ on his face. Considering that Eir had said that he’d been practicing medicine _here_ for more or less two centuries and from the words he’d used, she pegged him as either from the early 1800s or late 1700s. Thank God for all those completely unnecessary history classes she took for fun, eh?

 _So, he’s less of a disappointed “All Hail Britannia” and more of a genuine revolutionist, eh? Liberté, égalité, fraternité?_ Hmm, speaking of when France _did not_ become a republic, it reminded her of the last several aborted efforts. To be more precise, a certain _someone_ who aborted one of the efforts.

“What if I told you that Napoleon was beaten at Waterloo?” She asked.

“Good riddance!” His vehemence was instant and natural. Darcy couldn’t hide a smile.

“You really _did_ come from around the Napoleonic Wars, didn’t you?” She asked, finally confident enough to venture a guess.

“I have nothing against the Americans, but the United States of America is barely a unified country, much less a significant power. Then, there were all those low-level wars with other colonies.” He replied.

“It’s surprising what two hundred years of history and two world wars could do to geopolitics—all those other colonies in the North American continent? They’re mostly part of the US now. That’s not to mention how we also _did_ sort of consolidated during our own Civil War. All of that is decades beyond the time you know, though,” Darcy pointed out. She had caught his attention with her statement about the world wars. “Well, if you’re interested, I can update you on what happened in the next century and more after that, Osvald.”

“Stephen,” he corrected, his expression pensive behind his glasses.

“Not Osvald?”

“Well, Osvald _is_ the sigil by which I’m recognised by the Bifrost; did you know that it cannot accept names not written in Asgardian Futhark? It was the closest translation I can get of Stephen and now I am content and used to it. Still, it would be nice to hear ‘Stephen’ again from someone who can pronounce it, though, or perhaps _Esteban_. I’m not overly fastidious about which.”

The lilt in his voice told her that he was probably fluent in more than one earth language. Darcy felt something loosening inside her chest. She hadn’t realised how strange, how _different_ this world was until she had once more found something familiar. She could see that Stephen must have felt something similar, considering how he was more relaxed than he had been. It was almost like when she was backpacking in Hungary and happened to meet another English-speaking tourist by accident. They ended up sitting at a restaurant, spending hours just to talk and exchange stories with each other.

“Alright, _Stephen_ , if you promise to tell me all about Asgard, I’ll tell you all about Earth.”

There was that almost-there smile again for a second before it disappeared. “I’ll give you fair warning that it would not be soon. My shift is only over around eight.”

“Great! Just in time for dinner, then.”

‘-

Asking around yielded them the directions to Darcy’s new room. With a promptness that still took some getting used to, she found out that her belongings had been moved there already and an anxious Malmury greeted her at the door. The redhead was so worried that Darcy couldn’t help but hug her and insist that she was _fine_ , and that it was all a grand misunderstanding. It really wasn’t her fault if Avaldi had been so taken with her at first sight he just _had_ to pursue, right? It really is hard to be _so_ attractive—beauty _surely_ is a curse, and she had no idea why most people don’t understand that.

(She had to admit that she stole most of her act from Sarah’s ‘Brainless Belle’ routine).

Darcy could see Stephen’s eyebrows rising higher and higher with each detail she told. Yet even though she could tell that his compressed lips probably held back laughter, he said not a word to the contrary and neither did he chuckle. He didn’t even seem to be bursting with questions about why she didn’t tell the truth to her assistant—as he had met Avaldi, whatever understanding Stephen had of the situation would certainly be close to the truth. That man had better self-control on his curiosity than her.

“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you! Malmury, this is Healer Steph—Healer Osvald. Osvald, this is Handmaiden Malmury.”

“Pleased to meet you.” Stephen managed a brisk nod and something that was barely a bow. Malmury made her own greeting reply and a curtsy that was also scarcely one. _Huh, that was practical_ , Darcy mused. Would she be allowed to get away with using it against royalty? She doubted that. There was a bit of chit-chat as both Stephen and Malmury tried to ascertain that they really hadn’t met each other properly before, and whether they had any mutual friends. Considering that she was a handmaiden weaver seriously trying to climb her ranks and he a dedicated healer, neither of them seem to get out much to come across each other.

“So, until dinner, then?” Darcy asked before he left.

Malmury spoke up carefully. “Lady Darcy, you’re not aware of the Opening Feast?”

“ _Darcy_ , really Malmury, just call me Darcy.” Darcy rubbed the bridge of her nose in exasperation.

It must have been something because she could see understanding growing in Stephen’s expression too. “Oh, the _Feast_. That was today, was it? I haven’t been paying attention to the dates.” He said.

Darcy turned to him. “What Feast?”

“As an Ambassador to Earth, I assume this is why you’re being sent here. I’m afraid you can’t miss it, Darcy. Our plans will have to be rearranged for another day.” He answered. “Good luck on your endeavours.”

With that farewell, he departed from her new suite.

“Malmury, what feast are you talking about?”

“Why, the opening of the Allthing, of course. It’s the reason why everyone is coming from all over the Nine Realms.”

No, her real reason of being here was because going into Asgard was as good an escape plan as any. If she could be here and perform some tasks at the same time, all the better. Plus, it seemed that Pepper was prepared for almost _all_ contingency—how else would you explain the paperwork for the post that Pepper had already worked on?

But this _Allthing_ thing…

Darcy did wonder about that. She’d met Freya when she had just landed from the Bifrost, and their meeting there might have been coincidence. Yet then, there was that princeling whose outfit was richer than Thor or even Loki’s usual attire. There was Avaldi, Ambassador of his people, the fire giants. She’d seen people of all races and outfit arriving and the staff of the Golden Hall fully occupied in placing them and ensuring their comfort. There were all these _people_ and they can’t possibly be coming to Asgard for the same reason as Darcy actually did.

Something must have brought all of them here. Suddenly, things came together in her mind.

 _There’s a summit_ , she thought, remembering the words of that unknown prince.

“Malmury, I know that there’s some sort of big meeting happening here, but what exactly is the Allthing? I don’t think I’ve heard about it before when I was on Earth.”

“Well, Midgard has not had a representative in several centuries that your lack of knowledge isn’t surprising.”

The brunette nodded firmly. “Right. But? I hear a _but_ coming in your words.”

“ _But_ it would serve you and your realm better if you know what you will be facing.”

“The races of the Nine Realms and their representatives,” Darcy said, “I’m not going to be the only ambassador here, considering that Muspelheim sent Avaldi.”

“Ah, Lady Darcy…”

“It’s _Darcy_ , really, just _Darcy_. It’s much faster to say it that way too.”

Something was clearly on the handmaiden’s mind as she spoke. “Well, some races are spread across more than one planet, and sometimes more than one star-system too. We, the Aesir, are very well consolidated that even the minor kingdoms are satisfied with the leadership of the Allfather.”

She could see where this was going. “But this is not always the case of all the Realms.”

Malmury nodded, concern still etched over her features. “Earth may not be so as it is but one planet, but even the Alvar are of several kingdoms, negotiating their own interests in commerce separately, even if they respect their liege lord Tyr to represent their position in the wider realms. Everyone knows just how war-like the frost giants are, even among themselves.”

Darcy groaned, even as she strategically decided _not_ to enlighten Malmury on the non-existent state of earth’s planetary government and its hundreds of countries. _Better not air earth’s weaknesses so soon when I can help it, right?_

“So there’s going to be more than one representative from Jötunheim,” Darcy concluded.

“If there is any present from among the Jötnar.” Malmury cautioned. “After the recent hostilities between them and Asgard, they had scarcely bothered. The Muspellir is not as bad as the Jötnar; there are only three kingdoms and the largest is still Surtr’s. Of course their numbers never did reach the frost giants.”

Surtr’s. Since Avaldi was his nephew, she assumed it was his kingdom that Avaldi is representing.

That brought Darcy thinking. Does anyone here actually know what the frost giants were up to on earth? If not, it would be her responsibility to bring it up, wouldn’t it? What with her being the Ambassador and all. Fat lot of good she’d be in the post if she couldn’t even get help for her planet.

“It’s not the official summit meeting tonight, right? Just something like the opening gala dinner.”

“Well, yes…”

“And yet there’s no way I can say that I’m not feeling well enough to attend, is there?”

From the wince that crossed Malmury’s face, Darcy had a feeling that it wouldn’t be a good idea even if she could. She let out a long sigh. She was only wondering about it, anyway, not actually thinking seriously about it.

“Oh, _fine_. Any way I can get food for now? I still haven’t eaten and I’m _starving_.”

‘-

“Are we going to do this?” Darcy mumbled to herself as she walked back and forth. Over the gravel path, into the grasses and back again. She didn’t even bother to lift the hems of her dress.

Even the occasional chirping birds did not raise her spirit. She was too busy thinking.

“Oh hush you. Seriously, I’m trying to think here. You guys are screwing up with my concentration, you know that?” Alright, she was talking to the birds instead of just thinking, but she had a good reason for it. It made her a lot less nervous than she was feeling and she needed all the help she could get.

She thought the sparrow closest to her was twittering something like advice. Not that she could understand it, but it’s the thought that counts.

“Thanks, but I don’t think sheer guts would work here.”

Darcy was standing in front of the ophidiarium with a _lot_ of doubt. Never mind the peaceful glade she was stuck in inside the hall-like super greenhouse. She knew she should enjoy the fresh smell of greenery and flowers a lot more than she did now, but her mind was focused on the glass door in front of her; its steel frame was elegantly disguised into the shapes of climbing ivies of metal.

Sure, she remembered Stephen saying that the path was fenced in so the snakes couldn’t accidentally slither out from the grounds, but then didn’t he also mentioned something about them recognising him and wouldn’t bother him? What would happen if _she_ just decided to randomly walked in? The possible horrible, no good and definitely bad results of _that_ wasn’t something she was enthusiastic to find out first hand.

_Of course, considering that one side of the ophidiarium was joined at the hip with the infirmary, I could just try walking around the damned greenhouse and see where it ends. And then walk around the infirmary building looking for a door…_

…maybe even walk at least half-way around the building. And she _did_ notice how big it was before, didn’t she?

…

 _No way_ , Darcy shook her head with annoyance. _Might as well have tried for the main entrance in the first place_. But then she remembered just how _far_ the infirmary’s front doors were; the path to get there was a lot more confusing than the one to the greenhouse. There was no guarantee that she’d find it quickly instead of getting lost, wasting what little free time she actually had. That was why she went here of course, all dressed up and having not a little time to kill—the feast was still several hours away.

Lucky for her, the ophidiarium door swung open not long after that. Her eye widened as she caught Stephen’s dark hair—she hadn’t seen him arrive, and even if the glass walls were dark, they were still transparent.

“I thought I saw someone familiar by the door,” he said, glasses perfectly perched on his nose. Stephen blinked when he saw the deep violet dress she was in, complete with an almost-black underbust (it wasn’t black—it was just a very dark shade of green). The neckline might be modest, but with her assets, anything more would’ve looked downright tawdry. Add the small chignon and the rest let down in silky waves that Malmury had insisted in putting her hair in, Darcy guessed she looked as out of place inside the greenhouse as a silk butterfly in over a rose bush.

Darcy winced as she pulled the fine embroidered shawl around her shoulders closer. It was both a gesture of nerves and a way to make the serpent brooch she placed over one shoulder less obvious.

“What, too much?” She asked

“Let’s just say that I don’t believe you’re here to see me,” Stephen deadpanned. She could see that he was still mesmerised for another moment, at least before he shook his head. “You’re beautiful—only a blind man can miss that, but I can’t see anyone dressing up to see the sawbones.”

“Malmury was going to wait on me for a few more _hours_ before getting me ready for the damned feast. So I thought, you know what? She doesn’t need to do that for me. I’m sure she has other things to do as well. I decided that might as well just get dolled up now and let her off immediately.” Darcy said.

“And then you decided to take a turn around the garden?” Stephen’s voice was more ironic than curious.

“No! I decided to drop in at the infirmary, to chat with you for a while.”

“I only saw you entertaining the birds and butterflies for a while.” He pointed out, his eyebrows still raised. “They seem well entertained, though, so I’m sure you’ve been the perfect companion.”

“I swear I wasn’t _really_ talking to them. They’re helpfully _there_ , but I was mostly trying to talk to myself, you know?”

“Talking to yourself?” Stephen’s eyebrows, if possible, rose even higher.

 “It looked a lot less suspicious to talk to birds than to myself. I tried doing it with trees and shrubs earlier as props, but I either look weird. Or, I look like all those melodramatic girls trying to perfect their swooning Ophelia pose and finding the perfect way to drape themselves across trees as they stalk their beloved Hamlet-analogue— _dammit_ , I’ve just convinced you that they chose a crazy woman as Earth’s ambassador, haven’t I?

There was a snort, before a flush spread across Stephen’s cheeks as he raised a fist to cover his mouth. She could see his shoulders shaking.

“Sorry,” he murmured, but he was too busy trying not to laugh to be able to say anything else.

Darcy glared at the sky through the high up and far glass-ceiling because she damn well can’t glare at her stupid mouth. She let out a long sigh, “Never mind me. Really. You can laugh. Get it out of your system while you can.”

Stephen did, but since he was too well-mannered, he couldn’t stop himself from apologising right after that. Even in the middle of suppressed laughter. He didn’t even care if Darcy was already waving it all away with barely a care in the world.

“I’m sorry. No, really, I _am_. That wasn’t very nice of me.”

“Nah, it’s fine. Look, I know I’m a bit weird, but I’m used to having friends to laugh with so we’re cool.”

He took a deep breath, probably trying to steady himself after laughing. “Still, you took your time.”

“I’m not brave enough to just walk through the ophidiarium alone, no,” Darcy admitted.

He stared at her strangely “You realise that you could use the bell, right?”

“What bell?”

He turned to the right of the door and she saw a thick rope hidden under the shade of a densely-leaved tree that he pulled in demonstration. It even had fake leaves tacked on to it. She couldn’t even hear the ringing from here.

“That is _totally_ not obvious. It looks like a creeping vine!” Darcy protested.

“Ah, you’re _right_. That is a _suspiciously_ vine-seeming rope. A very good camouflage the rope has. I wonder how I didn’t see that before?”

She whipped around in disbelief, but the smile quirking his lips was a giveaway to the whole joke. She rolled her eyes. “Ha _ha_. Very funny. Anyway, how did you know I was even here?”

“We have our ways,” he said carelessly, leading her into the ophidiarium, but Darcy wasn’t to be deterred. The thick trees shaded their path as they both stepped into the darkened greenhouse. Stephen waited until she was in before he closed the door behind her. That thick, earth-scented warm air rose all around them, but it was less unsettling this time around.

“What, did you use a camera? I don’t think it’s a camera, though, I can’t see anything looking like a camera nearby. Or do you actually have some sort of animal, like, maybe a crow spying for you? Because that would’ve been really cool.” She prattled, eyeing him sideways. He seemed to take pity on her curiosity.

“Well, I was extracting venom from one of the more sensitive snakes, and it was not usually that restless. I thought there would be a guest at this door, and I was right.”

“That explains how you know I’m here. It doesn’t explain how you saw me.”

“Well, you were so busy arguing with that bird that I thought I’d just let you finish first,” he replied drolly. “Besides, it amused me.”

“That is _so_ not fair. I couldn’t even see you from the door.”

“Of course not. It was one of the security measures, I presume.”

“Um, you’re not too busy or anything, right? I’m not actually in the way of your work?” Darcy asked self-consciously. When she had planned to just drop in and chat with Stephen before the grand feast, it hadn’t occurred to her to remember that he was still _working_.

Stephen seems to be thinking of more-or-less the same concerns as he gave her an ironic look before answering. “ _Fortunately_ for you, milking serpents do not actually take all of my attention, so yes, it is alright for you to _drop in_ , so to speak.”

“And I don’t need any clearance or anything?” She asked.

He walked off from the main path as he answered and Darcy wasn’t crazy enough to follow him.

“Since you’re an ambassador, I’m sure you’re cleared for this wing already. And no, you’re not underfoot either—this is not exactly a busy section. I’m sure I’d be much relieved from being bored out of my mind once I’m rotated out again, but for now, I can be your guide.” Darcy was certainly _not_ enthusiastic about being only an elbow away when Stephen started casually picking up snakes from the shrubs and trees.

“That _was_ what you were thinking about when you set off for the infirmary, wasn’t it? You wish to find out the lay of the land from a native inhabitant? To perform preliminary scouting and gain the appropriate intelligence?” Stephen’s gaze was sharp behind his spectacles and the snake draped over his shoulders seemed oddly docile, while a smaller one was cradled at the crook of his arm. The dappled patterns of light and darkness from the canopy of trees turned his expression enigmatic and unreadable.

Stephen-who-is-also-Osvald was far more perceptive than what she’d expected from just a healer. For the first time after Darcy met him he truly looked as if he belonged here; he was just as fey as the so-called gods and goddesses in this world of alien powers and alien creatures.

Then, she remembered that he had been an officer in the _Royal Navy_ so of _course_ he’d notice what she was doing, and she felt like facepalming.

Her smile was sheepish. “Sorry.”

Stephen shook his head easily and stepped back into the main path. With a change of angle and better lighting, his casual smile looked a lot more human once more. “It’s alright. If I was in your position, I’d do exactly the same thing.”

The glances they exchanged were one of realisation and mutual understanding.

“I know you’re an Asgardian, an Einherjar,” Darcy stated, keeping a bit more distance between them on account of the snakes, “and I wouldn’t do anything that would get you in trouble or that would get your loyalty questioned. I’m not that kind of girl. I just don’t want to get into this situation _blind_.”

He nodded. “Oh, I _know_. One just doesn’t lose all sentiments for earth no matter how long the departure from it. I _do_ care, Darcy.”

“Thanks, Stephen.”

“You’re welcome.”

‘-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus cookies to anyone who tried to figure out just _why_ Osvald is played by Paul Bettany.
> 
>  
> 
> Glossary, Schmossary:
> 
> **_Allthing_ :**AlÞing, from Al- (“universal, general”) + Þing (“assembly, meeting, Thing”). A Thing is a historical term for a public assembly/judicial council in a Germanic country. In fact, the Althing is the national parliament of Iceland, and Norway has the Great Thing as their parliament (The Storting or _Stortinget_ to be precise). I decided to change the spelling a bit so as to not make it identical with Iceland’s.
> 
>  ** _Eir_ :** (mythology) not all sources are in agreement as to whether she is an actual goddess or just a Valkyrie. All sources agree that she is associated with healing.
> 
>  ** _Elder Futhark_ :** This is the oldest of the runic alphabets, a writing system used by Germanic tribes way, way back in the day. The writing system whose use more-or-less coincided with the age of the Vikings was actually the Younger Futhark. I assume the Asgardians actually have their own Futhark that does not precisely coincide with all the letters of the Elder Futhark, even if they match well in general.
> 
>  ** _Ophidiarium_ :** (Greek), the same way that an _aquarium_ is a place of water that happens to have fishes in it, an _ophidiarium_ is a place of dwelling for snakes. Formed from Ancient Greek ὄφις (óphis, “snake”) + -arium. The exact Greek letters courtesy of Wiktionary (I certainly didn’t remember them). Also, no prizes for guessing who was the primary Asgardian responsible for setting it up and the one who returned from his travels with the most new and exotic snakes to stock it with…
> 
> ‘-
> 
>  
> 
> _Some notes on linguistic details (skip this unless you love details. Nothing of the story is here):_
> 
> To be honest, I did think twice about using a Greek-derived word like ophidiarium here. I mean, if there was any earth language that the Asgardians’ tongue is similar to, it would be Old Norse. At the very least I could use something from a Germanic root. Yet, how important is authenticity if I’m completely authentic and no one has any idea what the hell I was talking about?
> 
> To provide an example, I had the same thoughts when I was writing Vethrfölnir’s nuclear physics bit ( _nuclear_ as in, pertaining to the core, in this case the _atomic_ core). I mean, a lot of the terms used are Greek-derived, yes, but if I tried to write it out only with words of Germanic root (because surely the Asgardians were light years ahead of earth in terms of science/magic and would have used their own terms instead of Earth's), I would’ve lost comprehension very quickly.
> 
> It's like...the phrase _uncleftish beholding_. How many would figure out based on the word stems that it’s referring to the same idea as the words _atomic theory_ *? (un-cleft, undivided; atomos, indivisible). Or that _ymirstuff = uranium_? (Ymir and Uranus/Ouranos are both primordial giants in their respective mythologies). A field like physics or medicine already uses highly specialised jargon that might be unfamiliar to some people, translating that out to yet another language is asking to get even more readers lost in translation.
> 
> In the end, my priority still lies in telling a compelling story than hyperrealism.
> 
> *Yes, someone actually tried to write an introductory text on atomic theory but using only words of Germanic root. Search online for Poul Anderson’s Uncleftish Beholding if you don’t believe me.


	35. XXXV. Say Hello to the Great Game 2 (Feasts)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The Opening Feast of the Allthing at the Golden Hall. Darcy hails a familiar face as being a wallflower sucks. Introductions. Distractions and deals on the dance floor. Darcy says hi to Sif. She returns to her seat and chats with her seated partner(s). The final guests and hosts of the Feast arrives._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A word of random suggestion, I was listening to the Skyrim soundtrack while I was writing this, and it was weirdly spot on. Also, I’m sure no one needs me to drop the reminder that I really do like alliteration, so that quirk of mine tends to crop up in unexpected places.
> 
> Uploading earlier than usual because I have family business to attend to this weekend and will have to go out of town. Replies may be slow.

### Say Hello to the Great Game 2 (Feasts) 

Strains of calming flute music reached her ears from just outside the Golden Hall.

Darcy clenched and unclenched her gloved hands uncertainly. She had held back from wearing them until the last minute, because she had no idea how weird wearing arm-length gloves were. It turned out that she needn’t have worried about it at all. _I wonder if they’d mind if I ask them for the gloves? I don’t think earth has figured out how to make breathable leather gloves yet_. It was a cliché to say that they fit like a second skin, and yet they did.

It wasn’t just her gloves that were without flaw. The whole place was polished and perfect. From the ornate bronze and brass lanterns the size of beach balls lighting the way from the gardens and paths and in the hallways – and she had yet to see what they were hanging on to. They just…floated at whatever height was appropriate, like slow-moving drops of Scheherezade’s golden dreams. There were understated flower arrangements on corners, like the various daylilies and narcissus in a long shallow pot that evoked flowers by a riverbed, and yet she could still catch their scent after she had walked away from them, the ghosts of fragrances haunting her.

Darcy wasn’t sure if the Asgardians could actually control the weather, but she wouldn’t be surprised if they can. She wasn’t really sure about the temperature as she had a shawl over her shoulders to warm her, but she guessed that the passing breeze was just cool enough to be refreshing but not cold enough to bite the ladies with the more open dresses. This was because she had spied more than one Vanir with stomach-baring or open-backed dresses.

 _Or maybe that was just one of those superpowers that they have_ , she mused.

She was getting better at recognising the Vanir – when they dress up, they really _dress up._ At the very least, she was sure they weren’t Aesir, because most of the Aesir she’d seen hadn’t looked like glam rockers.

Currently, Darcy was part of a loose gathering of people that was barely a line and closer to a bunch of people loitering in fancy clothes, but she was fine with that. If there really was a proper line, she’d probably need to chat with the people in front or behind her and being nervous meant the odds that she’d screw up would go up. The gigantic double doors of the great hall were closed, of course—they were entering through a smaller door set on one of the humongous doors.

Not that it was actually _small_. By her reckoning, it was at least eleven feet or so. She had no idea how the dwarves could get used to this.

Then it was her turn to walk up to the herald.

Darcy had managed to give him her name and position as well as pop an off-hand remark about how she _really_ wasn’t any sort of lady in the US. It isn’t as if her country had any sort of nobility like Asgard. He nodded, so she thought he got it, more or less. What she got as she stepped on the mirror-polished floor of the bright-lit hall was:

“The Right Honourable Darcy Lewis of Midgard, Ambassador-at-Large to the Nine Realms.”

Her smile froze on her face as faces turned to her and conversations fall in volume as people took their time to gawk at someone from _Midgard_ of all places. _The Right Honourable? What the ever-loving fuck??_ She could almost feel herself sweating a little from the weight of their attention. (Thank _you_ industrial strength deodorants; also, it was a good idea to wear her sneakers underneath the dress, no falling down or anything).

She really, _really_ wished those fire giants to her left would stop staring. They weren’t even glaring, but their eyes followed her even as she moved and it was creeping her out.

The music wasn’t as sedate as a chamber music group – something she’d expected from the last Nobel Prize dinner Jane had invited her to as her plus one (Thor was off in South America at that time, answering the call by Dr. Strange as some cult woke some monster with the blood of human sacrifice). There were drums with a pretty nifty beat. The table arrangement was…interesting to say the least. There were three long tables arranged in a U shape, with the table forming the horizontal bar at the opposite end of the room from the entrance. It didn’t take a genius to know where Odin would sit. The musicians were actually in the mouth of the U, separated into two groups so people could pass to the square area in the middle.

That square area was generally used for some rowdy roughhousing (as rough as it could be on something approaching a state dinner like this), or dancing.

A young woman with fine flowing hair stepped up to Darcy’s side. “Your Honour, allow me to escort you to your seat.” 

 _Right, arranged seating_ , she thought. And because her curiosity was stronger than even her brain-to-mouth filter sometimes, she’d asked a question before she even realised it.

“But what if I want to dance first before sitting down?” She didn’t even know anyone to dance with! “Or chase down one of the waiters carrying finger foods and champagne? Or mead, whichever?”

“Do you know where you’ll be sitting already?”

“Well, not _really_ …”

The Asgardian smiled. “It’s alright, I’ll show you where it is and I’ll remove myself from your way soon enough.”

It wasn’t as if Darcy had much of a plan, and knowing where she was supposed to sit at wasn’t such a bad idea. Her guess that she’d be placed waaay down on the table was right (because the Ambassador of Earth wasn’t _that_ important in the grand scheme of Nine Realm politics). Her place was on the right arm of the U, but she consoled herself that she was still closer to the middle of the table than the end. Noting where her name placard was located at, she memorised her seat and wandered off.

(She guessed it was okay to do since most people weren’t at their seats yet, or if they were, they’re busier chatting with someone while snacking than having a proper meal. The dinner itself probably wouldn’t start until sometime later.)

Of course, of all the things Darcy had imagined about tonight, she hadn’t counted on being an awkward wallflower. Considering the perplexed expression of the wait staff that offered her some mead, her smile was probably a tad too wide.

(Turns out that they didn’t have the usual champagne carriers after all. The man carried a flagon huge enough to hide a small dog in, and a ring of mugs hanging from his belt; it was refreshingly practical).

Desperately searching for a familiar face, Darcy couldn’t help but notice where Asgard’s de facto Foreign Minister, the bard-guy, was sitting at. He was not hard to find with his silver hair and beard. He sat at the edge of the dance floor, raising his glass to someone across the way from him. He looked as friendly as someone’s grandfather.

Her steps wavered, though. She was desperate, yes, but this was _exactly_ like talking to your boss first thing at a party – your desperation is obvious from a mile away as that was the last thing most people would do.

_I’m not that desperate yet…am I?_

_Maybe I could try to find Sif? Or the Warriors Three? They would be here, right? Not that it was easy finding who’s who in the crowd…_

Darcy took another sweeping look around the hall. If she jerked her head around any faster, she’d start drawing attention. As she resigned herself to walking up to Asgard’s de facto Foreign Minister, the open doors caught her eyes as another guest was ushered in. To be honest, with all the layers of fur and leather, he looked more prepared to go riding with Genghis Khan than to attend a party. Then again, she would bet that there’s still the issue of the room temperature not actually being _his_ preferred room temperature.

“His Royal Highness Avaldi son of Bodmodr of Muspelheim, Ambassador-at-Large to the Nine Realms.”

_Aha!_

This was why she had stepped forward and was waving enthusiastically at him the moment he entered, right after he stopped being blinded by the lightshow of thousands of lanterns hanging above them. To say that he was taken aback was an understatement.

“You!”

“Yes, _me_. Darcy Lewis, Head of Earth’s Diplomatic Mission, de facto Ambassador of Midgard and all that jazz. _Man_ , you should’ve arrived earlier—you’d have heard them announce me properly.” Darcy said without flinching. They were in the middle of a crowd; she was pretty sure Avaldi wasn’t crazy enough to go berserk here, at a fancy banquet held by the Allfather.

_Well, 80% sure is pretty sure, right?_

Darcy was mildly affronted when he actually turned to the herald.

“Is she truly the Ambassador of Midgard?”

The herald expressed his exasperation in a restrained, unamused look. “Lady Gylla has provided the identifying portraits of every guest here, Your Highness. There is none present here that is not invited—and none under a false identity.”

Avaldi looked as if he’d stepped on fresh dog turd. Darcy would’ve asked him straight up why he’s keeping his ego stuck up his backside, but he spoke up first after a long intake of breath.

“It was a mistake,” he said.

“What?” She blinked, confused.

Avaldi was staring at some unknown point in the ceiling. Darcy was seriously tempted to find what decoration was so mesmerising if she wasn’t afraid of putting a crick on her neck. Just staring up at him was already annoying enough for her that she didn’t want to look any higher. _Maybe they can get one of the staff members to pull it down so Avaldi could stare to his heart’s content?_ She mused. It wasn’t a bad idea; restaurants pull balloons out of larger arrangements for kids to hold, right?

“Attacking you was a mistake,” he answered out of the blue, through what she guessed was gritted teeth. She was almost sure it wasn’t her imagination and that she could her him grind them.

Darcy stared at him for another two seconds, thoughts about balloons completely derailed.

“Ooookay?”

He nodded rapidly. “Yes.”

Another weird second passed between them. He seems too satisfied for someone making a simple statement.

“I think you’re missing some words there,” she remarked dryly, “Words like ‘Sorry’.”

“Sorry?”

“I accept your apology,” Darcy replied cheerfully with a clap of her hands. She ignored the way he gaped a moment later as he realised what she’d just made him say. “Now that _that’s_ done, you can go and introduce me to the rest of your entourage because wow, was that short woman trying to roast me with her glare? Because I swear she was trying to roast me with her glare. Or trying to use x-ray vision to see my underwear. No matter, the rest aren’t as bad but just as creepy, though.”

There was the low bass thrum of an almost subsonic growl from him, but one glance was enough for her to know that it wasn’t directed at her.

“Those bunch of meddlers…”

“More reason for you to come over there with _me_ and show that we _don’t_ have a problem,” she insisted.

 A polite cough broke up their random staring at the group of fire giants. Avaldi and Darcy turned around to find that the herald had found them again after announcing several other guests.

“If the _gentleman_ is about to escort the lady somewhere, I suggest that he offer her his arm.”

He was almost challenging Avaldi to _not_ act like a gentleman. The fire giant was bristling, aware enough of the tone of the statement. Darcy rolled her eyes and decided to break up the stand-off glare-off before it became an actual pissing contest.

“Seriously Avaldi, we can just _walk over there_ right now instead of hanging out here longer and giving them more time to speculate.” Without waiting for him to answer, she grabbed his large left hand with her right and stared, waiting for him to get a move on.

There was a reason she wore gloves, after all, and asked Malmury about how tough they were.

Apparently, they were not up to the standards of dealing with dragons – but they were okay if she happened to wrestle with wyverns. She had to hold back the urge to laugh hysterically and assure Malmury that if she saw a lizard with the mere size of a German Shepherd, she was getting the hell out of dodge and not staying to fight back.

People keep forgetting that she was a breakable human.

“Well, if you are enthusiastic to get nagged to death, I’m sure this will be fun for you,” he didn’t hide the sarcasm in his voice at all. He was certainly intent on striding at his normal pace until she hissed at him to slow down.

He did, even if grudgingly.

Darcy ran a quick assessment on the fire giant group they were quickly approaching; there were five people there. She was sure there had been an older fire giant with them before, but that elder was nowhere to be seen now. There was one guy who’d noticed her and Avaldi’s movement first before the others followed his gaze. Another more careful look told her that yes, her feeling wasn’t wrong. He was standing in more-or-less the centre of the group. Most of the others’ torso were tilted slightly to face him – she was certain that even if body language differed between their kind, on this issue it was still the same.

 _We’re facing a clique_ , was Darcy’s thought. _And Avaldi’s annoyance seems to imply that_ he’s _the outsider_.

The conclusion startled her for several seconds.

“Well, well, what ‘ave we here?”  It was the gaunt-looking giant who uttered the first sentence. His smile was slick and insincere. Darcy hadn’t realised that it was jarring to hear a giant sounding _friendly_. “Avaldi, socialising so well already.”

A female giant scoffed. It was the shortest of them that she’d noticed earlier, her height surprisingly human. She was also slightly more outward in position than the rest.

“To be _arrested_ is a far cry from _socialising well_.” The female giant said.

Darcy had to kick Avaldi’s foot to get him to stop squeezing her all-too-human hand before something gives. Like her bones or tendons, for one.

“It’s just a misunderstanding, it’s not such a big deal. _Right Avaldi?_ ”

The brunette only knew he said ‘right’ because she had expected to hear it. Otherwise it was hard to comprehend the half-growl.

“Come on, introduce me to your friends.”

That prompted the leader to laugh. The short female snorted, but her grudging half-smile, half-smirk actually put Darcy more at ease than the thin guy’s easy and wide one. The others laughed too, though not as loud.

“ _Friends_ , she says,” another guy piped up.

Darcy made sure she remembered his face and then dismissed him easily because the thin guy barely even glanced at him.

“But _of course_. We _are_ friends, aren’t we, Avaldi? Though family is far more accurate, Miss…?”

He was staring at her instead, long enough for her to notice his piercing slate grey eyes. Darcy gave up on waiting for Avaldi to _do_ something and simply introduced herself, extending her right hand to shake. “Darcy Lewis of Midgard.”

“I heard your introduction when you came in.” He bowed over her hand with unexpected grace even with their height difference. He had none of Avaldi’s awkwardness or uncertainty, even when there were still the occasional wary looks sent their way from other guests of different realms.

“Geilir, son of Surtr of Muspelheim.”

Darcy held back her jaw from gaping. If he was the son of Surtr, then he was certainly the next in line to the throne of Muspelheim. Here was another outer space prince like Thor. The confidence and charisma in his bearing now had an explanation.

“This is my cousin,” Avaldi grudgingly finished. “Who certainly has more important things to deal with in Muspelheim than this feast.”

“Not at all. It’s always good to know where the rest of the Nine Realms stand.” Geilir said. He grinned at Avaldi. “Besides why can’t I be present at your new posting? You’ll need all the help you can get.”

“I’m perfectly capable of doing this alone.” The fire giant next to her replied firmly.

Several sceptical looks met Avaldi’s pronouncement, but his cousin was not one of them – his expression was an unreadable placidity. The short female snorted, before turning to Avaldi.

“You have not introduced the rest of us, by the way.”

“This is Aerindis, daughter of Hyndla,” Avaldi stated, faster than Darcy expected him to.

“That would be fine if you’re introducing me as a witch in a gathering of mages. In this diplomatic occasion, you should’ve mentioned our father.” Aerindis corrected. Darcy could see her brow ridge arching up as she made the statement.

“Aerindis, daughter of _Bodmodr_ , then.” Avaldi said, none too happy about it.

“Good one, little brother. If you can maintain that, maybe you _can_ actually do this.”

She patted him on the arm as if she hadn’t seen him bristle at all before leaving the group without a care. Aerindis turned back one last time to throw him her last words.

“A word of advice, Avaldi, mixing work with pleasure rarely ends well.”

Darcy had to hold back the urge to laugh even as Avaldi’s confusion was visible. He did not allow anyone to dwell on it much as he proceeded to segue into introducing the rest of the fire giants to Darcy – there was one other cousin and the next two were unrelated. Geilir, on the other hand, was observing Darcy as much as she was observing him. Even his easy smiles did not detract her while Darcy was fielding casual questions about how earth was like from the other fire giants, or another one asking whether her hair colour was real—that one brought a smile on her face.

“I have been worried for nothing, it seems,” Geilir finally spoke. “You have yet to try to grab her away from us.”

Darcy thought she heard a warning tone resonating in Avaldi’s chest. The conversation around them died as easily as it had begun.

“Why would I do that?”

“I have no idea either. Yet considering the charges levelled against you, Avaldi, perhaps there are more things I don’t know all the same. I promised father that I will see for myself whether you are suited to the office or not.”

The cousins stared at each other as tension rose. Darcy let out a long breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding and barged right in the middle of it.

“Well! Now that I’ve met everyone, you know what we should try now, Avaldi? Dancing! Look, the floor’s not that crowded.” Darcy exclaimed with hyped-up cheer.

She had started tugging his hand. Not that she could ever drag him anywhere when it comes down to it. Yet even for all his perplexed expression he actually followed her, away from the bunch of fire giants he’d been eyeing warily earlier.

“Why are you suddenly talking about dancing?” He asked.

“Because we need to _talk_.”

“Yes, _yes_ , you are the Ambassador of Midgard. I stand corrected.” Avaldi stated quickly.

“No! Look, we’ve got to get our stories straight.” It wasn’t hard to make way through the occasional dancing people. Other than being still half-empty, having a fire giant lead the way was like getting through a picket fence with a battering ram. It was overkill and was in no way stealthy as _everyone_ would notice you. People voluntarily moved out of the way before they get swiped or run down.

“What stories?”

“You do _not_ want people to hear that you had tried to kill me, do you?” Darcy lowered her voice, forcing him to bend down a little to hear her.

“You did the same!” He protested.

“Pfffffft. _Right_. And how many people would believe the _ridiculous_ assertion that someone _my_ size tried to kill a fricking fire giant _with my bare hands_? It wouldn’t stick and you know it.” Darcy answered with a knowing look. It was hard trying to look down on someone when you’re looking up, but it wasn’t impossible.

“You have magic!”

“Did we or did we not go over the topic in the holding room? If I could do magic, I would’ve started slinging spells at you instead of running away like a hunted rabbit! I’m the harmless human here and anyone could see that!”

Even as he huffed with annoyance, Avaldi did have a good sense of rhythm. He managed to actually tell her what the dance that most people were doing was like and show her some of the basic moves. It was a bit like a boogie, to be honest.

“So,” Darcy started again. “We need to do more damage control on _your_ side of the news than on mine, geddit?”

He rumbled a grudging acknowledgement.

“See, I knew it wouldn’t be any good if that news was loose. This was why when some Asgardian bystander asked me about why you were chasing me, I said it was because you fell in love at first sight.”

“WHAT?”

Darcy elbowed him. “Shhhh! Use indoor voice, dammit!”

“That is simply _ridiculous_.” He replied, incredulous.

“And if a charge of an _assassination_ _attempt_ reaches the ears of your sister or cousin, what do you think they’d do?”

She was betting that at least one of them would report back to Surtr. At the very least, she would bet that Avaldi _did not_ want to be taken off the job.

“Better to stick with unexpected entanglement, right?” Darcy asked, making her point.

His expression was sour, but he did give her a grave nod. “There is truth in what you say.”

Darcy raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him. “ _Of course_ there is. I _am_ the Ambassador of Midgard, you know. I get paid to think on my feet. What, you thought I got my post just because of my boobs?”

For the first time that night, Avaldi actually _did_ look down at her breasts for a full second or two before bursting in laughter.

“If you say they’re not worth it, I would accuse you of lying and kick you in the balls. Fair warning,” Darcy insisted. That drew a faint smirk from him.

“I wouldn’t dream of giving such a bald-faced lie.”

“Good. Then this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

She offered him her hand. This time, he shook it.

‘-

“Are you alright Miss—oh, it’s you, Darcy.”

Both Darcy and Avaldi turned at the serious tone of voice greeting them as the music slowed down. Avaldi had told her that as the music winds to a stop, that’s the signal for everyone to return to their seats and for the feast to start. It had yet to reach that point though.

“Sif! I _finally_ see you. I’ve been searching from the beginning of this gig for you or the Warriors Three, y’know?” Darcy couldn’t help pouting a little as she said that.

Unlike most ladies, Sif was clearly still in armour. It was a more impressive armour than the one Darcy had seen her in earlier, so she supposed that the Asgardian _did_ dress up a bit. Whatever she did with her eyeliner also made her eyes more striking. Darcy also wanted to abscond with her knee-high boots. They were kickass.

Sif smiled. “I’m sorry. I had things to do since I was rechecking the security. The Warriors Three are also unfortunately detained.”

Avaldi gave her a side-glance. “And I’m certain that your being here had nothing to do with her and everything to do with seeing a fire giant on the dance floor.”

“It’s not exactly commonplace, is it?” Sif asked, unintimidated.

“It’s alright, Sif I just needed to bring him up to speed on what’s up. Like, you know, why he was even…detained after being found in my room. It’s an honest mistake by room service, right? And what can I say, I can’t deny my own charms if it impresses even fire giants.” Darcy started part-humming, part- singing about how her milkshake brings all the boys to the yard. Sif had watched enough earth TV to chuckle at that while Avaldi was just staring at the weirdness that was Darcy Lewis.

The fire giant turned to Sif.

“I can’t _possibly_ fall in love at first sight with her at first sight.” He insisted. “Right?”

Sif shrugged, the movement of her shoulders remarkably fluid. “Oh, I don’t know. Why not? I mean, do you want me to change the general report I wrote to something else other than ‘overcome by her beautiful pair of…eyes?”

Darcy giggle-snorted. Avaldi opened his mouth one more time to protest before he deflated and shut up.

“I thought so. That would teach you to think through your actions more,” Sif said with a small smile on her lips. “What’s wrong with being smitten with a beautiful woman?”

“Well, I think his issues is that he has to convince his cousin too,” Darcy piped in.

“You have no knowledge of what I need to do,” Avaldi replied.

“I do know about the big outline. Be the ambassador. You can’t _be_ the ambassador if you’re not _the_ ambassador. Ergo, you need to stay at your post. There.” Darcy finished. “Now, you probably need to prepare something like a romantic dinner for tomorrow! Make sure you’ve thought about all three courses of the meal carefully. You need to impress the lady here, okay?”

Avaldi was rubbing his forehead and murmuring something that sounded suspiciously like _kill me now_.

Sif chuckled. “No need to go overboard, Darcy. To take it to such extremes is scarcely more believable either.”

“Oh. Man, that’s too bad,” Darcy muttered.

“Thank _Yggdrasil_ ,” he said under his breath.

“You might want to invite her for a walk and a casual breakfast, involving just the two of you,” Sif added, perfectly polite. “Try the Western Orchards, they’re hardier than most other gardens so your steps aren’t going to leave burnt grasses, Avaldi. Before that, you’ll need to take a picnic basket of breakfast from the kitchen. The orchards are beautiful this time of the year, the leaves all reds and golds.”

Darcy lit up at that. “That’s _amazing_ Sif!”

There really was no hiding the slightly-sadistic smile on Sif’s face when she turned to Avaldi. “Unless you wish me to change _my_ written report?”

She waited several seconds for an answer, never changing her calm expression.

He grudgingly shook his head. “No. You may leave it as it is.”

“Good. Now, Darcy will return to her seat, while you and I are going to go for a _chat_.”

Avaldi was taken aback. “Whyever for?”

“Because you have no idea of what Darcy prefers and you would gladly listen to my suggestions about them, since I certainly know her better than you.”

 _Man, Sif_ is _merciless_. Darcy thought while hiding her amusement. She could certainly get aboard this mock-romance plan if it meant having Sif plan play dates.

“Great! Have fun you guys!”

Darcy walked back listening to vague mutterings of ‘isn’t there another way’, ‘no man is ever that pole-axed by a pretty face to willingly…’ and other complaints of a similar nature. The only thing she caught that seemed to put Avaldi in a mildly improved mood before she was too far to hear much was how Sif would be very happy to beat him in the training grounds once he was in rude health once more—but not a moment sooner. Sif wasn’t going to let any leeway of excuse to exist, of how he might’ve beaten her if he was in perfect health.

It would seem that Avaldi was holding on to the prospect of a duel with Sif like a lifeline.

A final glance back gave her the almost incongruous sight of seeing a fire giant arguing-slash-discussing things with a shorter Asgardian.

_Well, that wasn’t so bad, was it?_

‘-

Darcy made her way back to her seat with a lighter feeling. The music had wound down to some soft instrumental lyre pieces from two musicians. The dancers were dispersing from the lack of fun beats, which she guessed was the point.

It was great to be able to really talk to Avaldi without him being contrary every step of the way, just because he distrusted her as an ‘Asgardian’. Of course, now she just has to figure out who she was seated with. She hoped it wasn’t someone who was going to monologue her to death (or until she dozed upright in her chair).

As she sat down, she noticed that the dinner companion to her right was already seated…and he was almost nodding off into his plate of hors d’houvres.

Well, she supposed sitting next to someone quiet wasn’t too bad either. Being able to focus on the undoubtedly excellent food of the palace would’ve been an experience of its own. Poking around at the table to her left gave her a name plaque that was written in some sort of runes, hmm, _Futhark_ script she couldn’t read. Yet when she blinked, it was less like runes and more like the font that medieval monks write manuscripts with. _Maybe I didn’t see it correctly the first time?_ She mused, absentmindedly. When she looked away to stare at the incoming wait staff laden with food before her attention drifted back to the plaque for a second time, her eyes widened.

She saw that the script had changed.

It wasn’t something she could read yet. The script was _thick_ and gothic…what was it called? Blackletter? Something like that. Darcy shook her head, intentionally closing her eyes. Maybe if she waited for a while before opening her eyes…

The plaque had changed again. This time, it was something like _Konrad, son of Olvir_.

The scrape of chair on marble alerted her to someone about to take the seat. The man next to her didn’t look like a _Konrad_. He looked familiar, in fact – it was the warm expression of Asgard’s de facto Foreign Minister. The Bard with his incongruously fluffy salt-and-pepper beard and hair kept in a single braid. There were only the barest of fine lines on his face.

“You don’t mind if I take this seat, do you?” He asked.

“Um, I’m quite sure you’re not Konrad? Son of Olvir? Konrad Olvirsson?” Darcy hesitated. She pounced on the chance to figure out his name before their conversation got any further and hazarded a random guess out of nowhere. “Unless it’s another of your name that I don’t know about, so I should start calling you Mr. Olvirsson?”

“Oh no, not at all! I’m still just Bragi Boddason. Bragi is fine. It has been an age since I last hear anyone use Boddason that I’m sadly not used to it anymore,” he clarified, blissfully unaware that Darcy was fervently committing his name to memory.

 _Bragi Boddason. Bragi Boddason the Bard. Bragi Boddason the Bard does not Brag of his Bodacious Bod much? Ergh, your imagination really doesn’t need to go there, Darce_.

“Master Konrad had gladly exchanged his seat with mine – I presume because he is enthusiastic about the idea of rubbing elbows with other people from the Nine Realms.” Bragi said.

“I’m sure he’s _really_ happy to meet and greet the powerful and famous at the main table. Gotta network the best you can, yo! You don’t get much chance to link _upwards_ when you’re low on the food chain, after all.” Darcy blithely replied. Her mind was still furiously scrubbing the results of her imagination, so it took another second for her to realise what she’d said without thinking and another two to scramble back and try to word what she’d said _properly_.

“Um! He’s certainly happy to meet people in more senior governmental positions and learn from those more experienced in the field, I mean! And level up in statecraft! Drats!!”

Her best defence other than that was just a wide and awkward grin. Fortunately for her, Bragi laughed.

“I am aware of what you are saying. It has been awhile since I was that young and junior. Yet I suppose some memories stay with us, yes?”

“Uh, yeah! Sorry about that, though. I usually have a better control over my brain-to-mouth filter. It’s just…this really important opening feast to the even more important Allthing is screwing up my nerves.” Darcy admitted. “Also, why are you here instead of Konrad? _Not_ that I’m complaining at all. Sheesh, I’m actually glad you’re here instead of someone I don’t know, still…”

Bragi slowly raised a hand and Darcy let her chatter drifted away. He did not speak up just then, preferring to wait until he could see that she was calmer before continuing. In a way, Darcy couldn’t help but appreciate his patience.

“I have just realised that you are not only the head of your diplomatic mission, you are also the _only_ person in it. You have no seniors to show you the way and teach you the ropes.” He said. The old man stared straight into her eyes as he said this clearly. He did not rush it, allowing her to comprehend all of his words.

“You’re alone.” He said, quietly.

For a moment, all the foreground noises of wonder for Asgard, of her excitement for her new job and its challenges receded in her mind as she let them go. The pang of loneliness she tried not to acknowledge at all tolled loud and clear in that single moment. The beautiful people around her, the elegant Aesir, the glamorous Vanir, the forbidding giants and even the other races she was sure she had yet to identify…they all belonged here. For all their disagreements, bickering, fights and battles, they all had been here for hundreds of years. They probably will still be here for another hundred or three.

“I…”

Her presence was just an anomalous blip in the eternal present in this golden city.

Darcy could feel the uncomfortable tightening of her throat. She bit her lip and took a deep breath.

She was spared from answering because Bragi spoke up again. “Well, what I wanted to say was, _you are not alone_. I would not ask you to believe everything I say, for you have to look upon the interests of your people first and verify as much as you can. But I will be here, and you can always ask me anything.”

It was a good thing that her father had been dead for more than a decade. Otherwise, she would’ve bawled right there. As it was, she still had to rub her eyes for a bit.

“Thanks, Mr. Bragi.”

“It’s no problem at all, young lady.”

He said it so easily as if it was no big deal, as if he’d only picked up her fallen handkerchief. _Or caught my flying balloon_ , Darcy thought, remembering her fifth birthday and a lost green balloon for some reason. She didn’t really lose it, of course. Her father climbed up a tree to retrieve it, never mind that he was already in a suit for an interview. _Here you are, young lady_.

Why was she remembering this now?

“Ah, it’s starting! Let us watch this pageantry from the best seat in the house, shall we? It’s a lot more relaxing seeing this all from the audience seat, I assure you. Much better than being trapped at the seats at the front with everyone staring your way.” Bragi clasped his hand and leaned forward in his seat.

Darcy couldn’t help but let out a snort of laughter. “I bet Konrad is as stiff as a board right now.”

“Well, I hope not. He certainly wouldn’t be able to enjoy much that way,” Bragi replied mildly.

His excitement was infectious and Darcy soon found herself doing the same. She hadn’t noticed it because it was done very subtly, but other musicians had joined up with the two lyre players one by one, adding one instrument here, and maybe another after a few minutes had passed. On and on until everyone was playing – which was what happened _now_. As she was actively noticing the music once more, she noticed that they’d come together to play an atmospheric orchestral piece that evoked tall, snow-capped mountains and cold winds running down their sides. Or endless primordial forests from before humanity walked on earth. Or oceans eternal; the waters clear, its winds wild and untouched.

She couldn’t recognise all the instruments playing, but she was pretty sure it wasn’t mere instruments involved. There was probably magic somewhere. Conversation began to fade away all around her as the music began to pull everyone’s attention away.

The great double doors of the hall, ones so enormous she thought it was only opened if they wanted to bring a T-Rex in, slowly open. There was no creak nor sound to them, as if a mere touch was all that was needed to get them to move. She did not hear the herald say anything, only the sweeping music carried on. Perhaps the coming guests were so well-known there was no need to announce anything.

The first to step in was a tall figure with an intricate crest of brown feathers over his brow.

At a glance, it was hard to decide whether it was the silhouette of a man or a bird that one was looking at. Another closer look made Darcy realised that the feathers were made of metallic crystal—it was a crown. His long hair was brown streaked with white and fell down his back. As she followed her gaze, she had to shake her head more than once because at the ends, she was almost positive that they were _feathers_ , but pulling her gaze up once more, she was also sure it was just _hair_. His staff was held unexpectedly in his left hand.

His shoes were well-worn hunting boots, and even if his clothes were fine, neither did they shine or gleam. His cloak was the perfect colour of fresh moss and seemed to have the softness of one too; and she swore she knew that texture well because she’d just seen it in Asgard’s greenhouse.

She gaped. This was a man who would disappear once he walked in a forest.

“High King of Alfheim, King Regnant over the Alvar; _Tyr_ the Eagle, the Even-handed Lord of Justice.” Bragi rattled off the titles smoothly in low voice next to her and Darcy was grateful.

Behind Tyr was a more familiar figure (from Jane’s descriptions) with long white hair and an eyepatch, in the formal leather armour that Darcy had seen more than once worn by Loki and Thor, by the Warriors Three and Sif. She couldn’t see much of Tyr’s outfit as he passed, as his cloak obscured much, but she could see that Odin wore a sword. From his upright and martial posture, one would’ve thought he was in his forties at most. His single eye was bright and piercing and Darcy wondered if she was the only one who felt uncomfortable meeting his gaze. Yet at the same time, it was hard to look anywhere else. There was an almost magnetic pull towards his person.

(As she surreptitiously looked around, she found out that the answer was no, it wasn’t just her).

“And the next is Odin Allfather? High King of Asgard?” Darcy guessed. She wanted to put in some effort and show that she wasn’t just trying to freeload on his knowledge.

“So you _are_ familiar with some figures of the Nine Realm.” He replied, pleased. “You are close, Darcy. He is High King of Asaheim, though most people call it Asgard these days. King Regnant over the Aesir, Allfather of the Nine Realms. Odin, the Raven, the Wise, the _Hanged_. Of course, he has still more titles than that and the same also applies to Tyr and the others. One tends to collect them the longer one lives. It becomes even truer when someone faces death more than once, but most are not important to go into for now.”

The cadence of his sentence rose and fell like the wind in a storm, first with ease and then with conviction and vehemence. Bragi seemed to be channelling something older with his voice, from a time when the world was less forgiving. For the moment, Darcy was supremely uncurious as to why Odin was _the Hanged_ and was content to leave the past where it was.

“If Odin is the Allfather, why is Tyr entering before him?” Darcy asked.

She remembered the usual rules of precedence enough to wonder.

“It is tradition to do it by position, and among equally reigning rulers, to respect the elders. Tyr has ruled an aeon before most kings were even born. He has said that he has even seen kingdoms rise to encompass _Midgard’s_ solar system before it falls into obscurity like many others.”

It was hard not to be awed at that revelation.

“ _Whut._ ”

Bragi nodded, undeterred by her incomprehension. “Precisely. Even the Asgardians have yet to plumb the depths of his memory—and we’ve filled shelves and shelves of our record room with his recollections. Not to mention that we have only decided to prioritise recording what he can recall from the time that Asgard does not have reliable written records.”

The next to come behind him were two people instead of one. Darcy recognised the splendid golden head of the first as she was closest to Darcy in position – it was Freya, her smile blinding anyone who had not guarded their heart from her charm. She was garbed in a gold dress, with a rich set of bracelets on both arms, her necklace was actually a set of three consisting of geometrical patterns inlaid with rubies, garnished with garnet and topaz. Her crown was also of gold, worked to resemble woven strands of wheat over a head of hair that gleamed just as bright.

“The co-rulers, King-Regnant and Queen-Regnant of Vanaheim, Frey and Freya. Whoever the High King or High Queen is among them is rotated between them as they wish; both had a wanderlust that they would have to indulge every now and then and yet the High King or Queen must always be present at the capital. The Sow and the Stallion, and yet also the Mare and the Boar. Warden and Wealthgiver…at the same time also Warlock and Witch.”

“That’s…that’s _Frey_ ,” she mouthed, flabbergasted at the impressive figure next to Freya.

The King of the Vanir was tall, wearing robes richly embroidered, sometimes with gold threads, and yet somehow it _still_ hadn’t veered over into being tasteless. She spied the sword by his side easily— _wait, make it two swords_ , Darcy thought. For someone dressed in a lot more glamourous style than the previous two kings, she was sure he wasn’t any easier to take out.

“Yes, that’s Frey beside her.” Bragi confirmed while Darcy’s mind gibbered and just lost coherence.

“ _No_. I mean, I tripped over a _king_. _Frey_. At lunch. _Fuck_.”

“I’m sure he’d say ‘yes please and thank you’ to that,” Bragi replied just as quickly. Darcy didn’t manage to stifle the first bark of hysterical laughter at that. Yet Bragi didn’t correct her and merely gave her his amused smile. She was speechless for a few seconds until she found her voice again.

“You’re kidding, _right_?” Her tone rose by half an octave.

“There is a reason, my dear, that humanity of old have tended to view the Vanir as fertility gods.”

‘-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahahaha, _now_ you know who you tripped over at lunch, Darce. Wasn’t that fun? (The author openly admits to being a sadist to the characters). And yes, the Vanir _are_ known as fertility gods and are generally associated with agriculture.
> 
> There's also another tiny Easter egg from another fandom for user Druid_Moon, who'd gleefully spotted a couple of expies earlier. 
> 
>  
> 
> Glossary, Schmossary:
> 
> **_Blackletter_ :** (orthography, typography) a heavy Gothic script used throughout Western Europe from approximately 1150 to well into the 17th century (the 1600s), says Wikipedia. It continued to be used for the German language until into the 20th century, hence its current association with older Germanic works. Seriously, if you’re lucky enough to find someone’s grandparent who is just a few decades under a century old and happened to attend a gymnasium around the German-speaking regions when growing up, they can tell you how they still practiced writing blackletter in class. For me personally, it’s a headache and hard to read, though.
> 
>  ** _Insular script_ :** (orthography, typography), this is the name of the letters between the futhark runes and the blackletter whose name Darcy had no idea of. It’s a medieval script invented in Ireland that spread to Anglo-Saxon England and Continental Europe. This is due to the influence of the monasteries of Ireland and the generations of monks trained there that spread out and taught/became missionaries all over the place. 
> 
> I know the typeface/font more as _Uncials_ , because that’s the name of the version of the script that gets well-known in England and Scotland. Blackletter evolved from this.


	36. XXXVI. Histories and Mysteries, Part 1 (At the Grand Meet)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _A conversation on the land-bound. An unexpected fracas occurred. Bragi meets an old friend. Powwow. Darcy gets updated on more shit that hitteth the fan._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this weekend yet? Friday is weekend, right? Updating now because...I'm weirdly impatient about it.
> 
> Loki is not in this chapter, but he's coming up in the next one. Yes, seriously. It's time I start closing up some of the open plot threads.

### XXXVI. Histories and Mysteries, Part 1 (At the Grand Meet)

Once she had seen the ageless majesty of Tyr, she began to notice all the other alvar, _elves_ in the Golden Hall.

Throughout the first dinner course and the second, it felt as if a dimmer knob was gradually turned on to throw light in the room. Now, the table was being cleared once more. As Bragi guided her around the hall and introduced her to a few other people, her gaze had wandered near and far, and Darcy could _see_.

Where the Vanir were generally glamorous and the Asgardian mostly martial, the Alvar were subtler in their style. There was a woman with a crown of daisies on her hair that danced on the open floor once more, but unlike the daisy-chains Darcy used to make as a child, these had hearts brighter than yellow topaz, their stems and leaves were silver wires so fine one might imagine it took pixies to work them. The flowers themselves stood starker in reality than mere diamonds.

There was another who sat unassuming between two Vanir, who for some reason she couldn’t recall of ever seeing before. This was made even more remarkable because he was merely two chairs down from the seat right across hers and _everyone_ was already seated before the three high kings entered. His dark coat was as faded as his pale eyes, the circlet upon his brow glowed like the early morning light. If she wasn’t looking directly at him, she could never be sure that he was _there_ as he had always slipped from her sight. This happened even as she and Bragi walked past him.

As the music turned to more danceable tunes once more, attracting a sizeable following from the people that had left the tables (Bragi assured her that the third course would be a while). That was when Darcy started paying attention to the crowd. It was a lot larger than she remembered it being at the beginning of the feast.

They had wandered out into one of the side hallways now, but with more than one grand pair of doors to the hall open, Darcy turned back from the balcony to look into the Hall once more and people-watch. The Bard was watching Darcy’s frequent head turns with a small smile.

“Was there anything of note that you’ve found?” He asked, leaning back against the balcony railings.

“Anything? I missed people! Suddenly there’s more people in this room than I thought there were! How does that _work_? How does one fail to see people?” She sputtered.

“When the people prefer to stay unnoticed, of course. Or when many have forgotten that not everyone has a higher Sight and could perceive them easily when they do not firmly tread the Here.” Bragi replied.

The answer was one that sounded so simple that she wondered why it hadn’t crossed her mind before, and yet musing over it for a second or third time afforded glimpses of deeper mysteries under the surface. Out of all the questions bubbling in her mind, Darcy chose what she hoped had the easiest answer.

“They do not firmly tread the ‘Here’?” Darcy hoped for clarification.

Bragi shrugged, mildly apologetic. “You have to understand that they do tend to be a little on the forgetful side.”

“What did they forget?”

This time, the old Asgardian had a curious smile.

“How much do you know, Darcy, of the _staðarandar_?”

That was _way_ out of any lingo she knew. “Eh, what?”

Bragi paused for a moment before he seemed a little sheepish. “Pardon me, I wasn’t using the Allspeak there. The, hmm, _genii locorum_?”

“Land spirits?” Darcy checked back.

She was pretty glad that she’d chased for an explanation about it from Tony that she wasn’t a complete _blank_ about it. It certainly wasn’t a topic in any of the thick files Pepper handed to her. Well, she’d scanned the titles…it wouldn’t somehow get stuck inside the section on _technology_ , right? The biggest chunk on culture and spiritual beliefs was funeral rites, and she was sure she’d heard enough from Jane about it for now. There were other things that she needed to concentrate on. _Too many things to catch up with and not enough time…_

She was met with an acknowledging nod. “Yes. How much do you know about them?

“Just that they’re not common, pretty powerful, and generally doesn’t care enough about people’s daily life to interfere?”

She didn’t know why they’re detouring to speaking about _genius loci_ from elves that are somehow Not Quite Here, but it wouldn’t hurt to try to follow his explanation. Bragi smiled at her one sentence summary and raised his mug to show his appreciation for what she knew.

“Hmm, yes, that’s quite a succinct way to put it. Now, what do you know of the land-bound?”

His words still came across clearly to her, but was it just her impression, or had he lowered his voice just now?

“I have no idea,” Darcy said.

“Well, we know that the _genii locorum_ are very powerful. Also, merely because they seldom interfere in the affairs of men does not mean that they never interfere,” he said, with almost methodical slowness.

Darcy had a gut feeling that the direction he was going in was vaguely familiar. She remembered how Loki managed to slip out of the wards of Stark Tower.

“And it does not mean that we can’t ask for their interference.” She stated.

Bragi was delighted at her answer.

“Exactly!”

She glanced up. The glow of the lanterns above them flickered and dance, as the floating lanterns themselves bobbed up and down like shining waterlilies in invisible currents. The changeable light reminded her of the time she and her friends tried to see the Bayeux Tapestry under medieval lighting.

Bragi with his stateliness looked as if he could be one of the men in it. Or in something even older, a figure from the ancestral stories carved into the walls of a pagan temple in old Uppsala. A face grave and unconcerned by rushing time as he watched generation by generation pass.

The Bard continued with his explanation. “For any particular king, their great interest most of the time would be to ask for assistance from one _genius loci_ again and again. This would be the spirit of their own land, the unofficial guardian of their own kingdom.”

His explanation evoked in her mind the picture of a queen defending her kingdom from an invasion. If her troops are outnumbered, she wouldn’t hesitate to try out other means, no matter how obscure or how impossible it seemed.

“A ruler would give a lot to be able to call for help at the most desperate times. A ruler would…wouldn’t mind being _bound_ to the land spirit?” She hesitated.

(Darcy couldn’t help to also wonder, even if only for a moment, what she looks like now under the fairy lights).

“A ruler would not mind being _land-bound_.” Bragi agreed.

“How is _that_ even possible?”

“It’s a long ritual and an even longer story, but it is not our concern for now. What is important is that most thought it to bound the land to them. Little did the realise that the bindings went both ways. As much as the land spirit is bound to you, you are also bound to them. Allow for the years and centuries to pass, and the binding becomes more permanent. The borders between the selves becomes increasingly porous; the land-bound begins to understand the _genius loci_ better, to know its thoughts and ideas. This comes at around the same time that the ruler is able to request for help easier and even manipulate some of the _genius loci’s_ lesser powers on his own.”

“A maturing land-bound ruler is a powerful king indeed among his peers.”

Bragi paused to take a sip out of his mug. Never mind all the benefits that being land-bound could give, Darcy sensed a large ‘but’ coming.

“But…?”

Bragi quirked his lips on one corner. “Why should there be a ‘but’?”

Darcy rolled her eyes. “Because, there’s no such thing as free lunch in this world. If being a land-bound queen gives you awesome kickass powers, I’m pretty sure the costs would let you know about it sooner or later.”

He did not immediately answer her, but her conclusion seemed to amuse him. “That is a very good attitude to take to power and favours. They are never free.”

“Aaaand? What happens to the land-bound?” Darcy wheedled.

“Their tight bond pulls the land spirits closer to our physical existence, attuning each _genius loci_ closer to the people living on its land. They grow more aware of the changing seasons and years. Usually they choose to surface more often by then and reports of their sightings increase. There are no lands in the kingdom that is barren to the extremes anymore with such attention. Perhaps there have been more changes in the way the _genii locorum_ experience the world after that, yet it’s not as if we know their immense and alien minds.” Bragi said.

“As for the ruler?”

“The ruler Is now able to walk as the land spirits Walk, within the earth or in the skies. Many of them have become poets, telling tales of the wonders they’d seen with eyes that are not a mere man’s. Many still turn to study the stars that they could now perceive far clearer and feel with better intimacy. Others wrote great histories of their lands as they could see the layers of its history with greater depths now. They remembered past kingdoms that had once stood on their land the way the land spirit had remembered them, and some become intent on excavating ancient cities whose precise place have long passed from history.”

Truly, the Bard of Asgard spoke of great and wondrous things now afforded to the kings and queens that have bound themselves with the _genii locorum_. Yet if it was so great, wouldn’t everyone and their grandmother try to bind themselves to land spirits great and small? Wouldn’t it be so common that she’d have heard about it quickly from either Thor or Loki? And yet she barely heard much about any _genius loci_ , much less the land-bound.

“Are there really that many people who are land-bound?” She couldn’t quite hide the scepticism from her voice.

Bragi’s mysterious smile was wider now.

“No, not really. Not for at least a millennium, and easily more than that.”

Darcy almost jumped up. _Ha!_ Her suspicions weren’t baseless after all! But she didn’t manage to utter a word in because a loud bang and crash sounded from the gardens below and several shouts. She and Bragi exchanged glances for one second before looking down from the balcony.

“What the hell…” Darcy murmured. She missed Bragi’s bemused expression at hearing her words.

Luckily, there was enough lanterns spread above the garden to illuminate the scene. It wasn’t a surprise that the noise came from drunk people. What she’d thought as someone falling into a pond or tripping over a garden bench, however, was someone _breaking_ said garden bench over another guy’s head and shoulders. Then, said guy’s friends took offence at that and started a shouting match. Then, they tackled the bench thrower. That was as much as she could make sense of the mess, but it wasn’t really surprising.

What was surprising was how more and more people kept getting pulled into it, turning it into a brawl than a scuffle. She could hear Bragi groaning beside her.

“Oh, those _boys…_ I thought they were better than this.”

“Someone has to stop them.” She didn’t hide her worry as she said it.

“The Einherjar are already moving.”

Yes, but they were still at the edges, and the fight in the middle was getting intense. One of the drunk guys had enough coordination to climb a tree to get the drop on someone below him.

“It’s not going to be fast enough.”

“Yes, I believe you’re right.” Bragi’s voice was grim. “Please, excuse me.”

Darcy thought he was only trying to lean forward and gave instructions. She certainly didn’t expect him to climb over the railing and jump down. She yelped. _That was a one-story height, and it wasn’t a short one-story either!_ Not to mention that like many Asgardians, he always wore some armour on him. She heard his _clank_ on the ground too. _If Bragi was human, he would have some broken bones under all that metal!_

“Careful!”

He raised an arm and she took that to mean he was okay.

For an older man who was shorter than most Asgardian warriors, he actually made pretty good speed knocking some of them away and out as he forced his way into the centre. He was still only one man, though. At least that was what she thought until she saw another man flying down from the balcony on the other end of the garden, opening a path with ease from the opposite end from Bragi. With the Einherjar taking care of the edges, the two of them managed to pull apart the main knot of the fight.

The other man seemed to be in a worse mood than Bragi, if the way he tossed people out was any indication. He did not make much effort to make sure that they had a nice landing, contrary to Bragi’s more measured approach.

“Look out!” Darcy yelled.

Two drunks were stupid enough to try attacking the second man’s back. Unfortunately for them, he did not even need to turn before he casually picked up a fallen sign post to hit drunks number one and two over his shoulder. It was hard not to be impressed.

 _That was some pretty uncanny senses_.

Once Bragi and the other man found each other, they acted as a team. _Ah, he must be an old friend of Bragi’s then_. Usually, Bragi went low while the stranger went high—and when Darcy said _high_ it wasn’t just for a jab. The man was not just extremely light on his feet, he must be part cat, or something. When Bragi lent him his shoulders to step on, he jumped in an impressive arc and took down a group some twelve-feet away. He used everyone else as perching spot with less regard than he did Bragi; he easily wiped out more people by falling on them like judgment raining from the heavens. _How did he not trip on his cloak, though?_ Darcy wondered. The Bard himself had a more solid fighting style and was also productive though at a steadier pace.

Still, it was hard to beat his style of putting down groups of people at once like he was playing ninepin bowling with drunks. They coordinated their movements so well that the remaining booze-filled guys were only standing and belligerent for less than twenty seconds.

Bragi waved at her to show that everything was fine, she waved back with a relieved grin. He conversed with his taller friend, the jumping-jack acrobat. The next thing she knew, he placed an arm behind Bragi’s shoulder and _leapt_.

Up and up and _up…_

Darcy scrambled away as they landed at the balcony once more.

Yet there was something… _odd_ about how they landed. For all his armour, Bragi barely made any sound. Neither did his companion, his long hair flew behind him for a moment before falling down as he touched the ground. They were as light as a leaf upon the surface of a pond – she was only four feet away and she couldn’t feel any thud or vibrations through the floor.

(Wings folded close).

Darcy blinked and shook the flash of image away.

“I’m sorry for the interruption, my dear,” Bragi said as he dusted his clothes. His friend seems less concerned with any dirt or dust; not that it was easy to tell if there was any with the grey cloak he was wearing. “But then I also have this great opportunity to introduce my friend to you. Let me introduce you to Vethrfölnir. He is not exactly bound to a land-spirit, but he is spirit-bound all the same. I thought you will be interested in his experience.”

“Hawk, please,” he corrected as he bowed to Darcy. The first thing that she noticed was that he did not look to be close to Bragi’s age – if he was human, she would’ve thought he was in late thirties, or maybe someone well-preserved in his forties. Darcy curtsied hurriedly, (or the closest imitation she could manage). He was quiet and his voice was scratchy, as if he hadn’t spoken much in a long time.

“Or Veth. Vethrfölnir seems…ungainly for conversations that are not formal.”

The Asgardian was considering his friend with open curiosity. “Oh, so it’s _Hawk_ now? Really?”

He shrugged. “Well, I am Vethrfölnir and Hawk. What does it matter?”

“It _certainly_ matters. You’ve never said that before. _You_ were Vethrfölnir of Alfheim, Right Hand of Tyr, spirit-bound to _Hawk_ , Watcher of All the Skies.”

Hawk (Veth) turned to the Bard slowly, taking in the words. This was when she noticed that his dark hair wasn’t brown – it was dark _grey_. _Not exactly a sign of age, is it?_ On his head was a circlet with a crest of crystals with a pewter gleam that she could easily mistake for feathers, similar to Tyr’s greater crown.

“You are right. Still, things change.” Hawk said after thinking over it for a while.

Darcy was honestly feeling not a little overwhelmed.

“So…” she began. “The Hawk is a _genius loci?_ ”

It was Veth (Hawk) himself who answered. “He is a _fyrstandar_. The First of Spirits.”

“ _Genius primordialis_ ,” Bragi clarified beside her.

Unfortunately for Darcy, that was the only explanation Hawk gave. He treated it as if the answer was clear enough in that sentence and turned to her next. “And you are…? A wise lady from Vanaheim that the Bard happens to know at such necessary moment?”

Darcy’s eyebrows rose up a little. _Huh, first time someone thought I was a Vanir here_.

“But surely she looks just like any other Asgardian!” Bragi said with astonishment – that is, if you can’t see the gleam in his eyes. He was pulling one over his friend and Darcy didn’t mind hanging on for the ride.

Veth seems to take Bragi’s exclamation as a request to explain how he did it.

“Ah, but I know your habits, Bragi. Not even a feast will make you think only of pleasures and without regards to Asgard or the Nine Realms. I take from that point, then, that you will certainly be working for peace. You are working in talks with Vanaheim, then? And yet it would invite not a small amount of risk if she were to be identifiable as a Vanir, isn’t it?”

Darcy’s confusion was definitely shared by Bragi. It took a few moments before something close to understanding began to grow in his eyes. The Bard looked sombre when stepped forward.

“Vethrfölnir of Alfheim, Right Hand of Tyr,” he spoke with care, “the Aesir-Vanir War is over. It has been over for centuries, for more than a millennium or two.”

“But I could swear…”

“You left Asgard sooner than you had planned to, tiring of all the conflict. You took off from the ashes the first Golden Hall, burned down with Gullveig inside. That place was…Pride of Asgard indeed. The act of great men with need.” Bragi’s tone was self-mocking. “Such base, base need.”

Darcy could hear regret in his voice.

“A golden hall for a golden woman; a perfect pyre to send her off.” Veth murmured as he stared into the distance, into a past long gone. Was it just her feeling, or had his eyes been that yellow before?

Bragi winced. “Yes. The next time you came, the Hall had stood once more, remember? The second Golden Hall. It was only bright at the roof then. It has yet to have its current grandeur. Time has passed; you’ve flown away and you’ve come back today,” Bragi insisted.

“So, let the past sleep once more, Hawk. Let it lie and let it be. Come to the present and land. Be here and _see_ , and you’ll understand.”

Veth brightened. He turned his head back to Bragi in a distinctly avian way. For a second she could see the Hawk in him, could almost see a great wingspan in the spread of his cloak. It disappeared again when he moved as the angle was lost.

“Ah, yes. It _has_ been over for a while, hasn’t it?”

“Yes, it has,” Bragi said.

“I’m sorry, I do tend to forget things.” He sighed. He ran a hand over his hair, shoulders tense.

“I am worse than any other elf, I gather. Worse than any other spirit-bound or land-bound. It’s just that, when compared to the infinite skies, no kingdoms truly matter…”

He trailed away, lost in his own thoughts again..

“It’s alright.” The Bard answered with the same patience, even if there was a touch of sadness in his blue eyes too. “I understand. I’ll always be here to remind you.”

“Yet it is such an understandable mistake to make, isn’t it?” Veth mused aloud, hand gripping the back of his head. “If we are in such a great age of peace, why are the tensions like back before?”

“I’m sorry?” Darcy asked.

She hoped that _someone_ would start explaining things before she started firing a _lot_ of questions. After all, she had no idea what effects it would have on Veth’s apparently questionable psyche.

“There, in the garden, I thought I had to hold back the vengeful Vanir again.” He explained to Darcy. “It is completely unexpected. Consider this; a large fight between the Vanir and Aesir? A large fight, where the factions are drawn according to the Realms, instead of perhaps drawn across military units or groups of sportsmen, with each faction having members from each realm? We have here a vicious brawl that is not trivial, nor is it done with goodwill about thy neighbour.”

Vethrfölnir had turned to restlessly wander around them, occasionally his left hand tugged on his hair, leaving a weird spot that stood up compared to the others. Darcy had to join her hands together to stop herself from pulling his hand down. Or from holding his left hand in hers, to give him something solid to clasp. Now, he stopped in front of Bragi.

“Didn’t you see that too?” The elf asked.

“I did,” the regret cut deep into Bragi. It was something heavier – it was the first shade of shame.

“Can you blame me, Friend, to have seen the wrong time?” Veth asked. “Yet what is happening here, Bragi? I swear I can scent war gathering in the air too. It is no wonder that I have been restless since I’ve arrived, for reasons I can’t put into words immediately.”

“There won’t _be_ war. It’s too _ridiculous_ a reason for war.” Bragi cut in.

“The young men, the _children_ involved in the fight will certainly need to be punished to stop them from anything more idiotic. We are _better_ than this.”

He walked away from Veth only to do his own back-and-forth.

“Guys, _guys!_ I have _no idea_ what you’re talking about. From the beginning, _please_.” Darcy tried her best to keep her voice level. She might not have completely succeeded. The Bard of Asgard slowed down his steps.

“Do you know the reason the Allthing was called, Darcy?” Bragi asked.

“No idea.”

“I don’t have the faintest idea either,” Veth admitted. “I only follow where my liege commands. Yet I did hear that it was not the Allfather who has used his rights to call the Allthing. It is…peculiar. I cannot imagine anything that my liege would consider so grave an issue that he will call for the Allthing himself. Yet who, then, among the other kings and queens…?”

Bragi glanced at their surroundings quickly. It was barely a flick of the eyes that Darcy almost didn’t notice it.

“Not here. Let us adjourn to a smaller room first.”

Bragi lead and the two of them followed with unspoken urgency.

It took some effort for Darcy to get her brain to shut up and stop coming up with worse and worse scenarios. Earth was certainly fighting the Frost Giants right now, but she had always been able to focus at her task here and not worry. It was only a matter of time before she could explain the situation and her case, and she’d be able to get help for Earth. If, for some reason, Asgard was not as peaceful or perfect as it seems…

What hope was there for Earth? What if the fight spilled over there? What if—

 _Shut it. Zip. Don’t think about anything else, Darce. We don’t know_ anything _. Is it actually as serious as Veth put it, or is that just his flashback to an earlier time? Guy’s not all…here, is he? He admits that himself. This is all just useless speculation at this point and when has that ever helped anyone?_

She forced herself to look up, to not get lost in thoughts again and observe her surroundings. They were in one of the side hallways, the Hall no longer in sight now. At first, even the open doors held sound of many conversations or raucous laughter and games. The farther in they went, the less voices heard and less open doors in general. The golden lanterns still floated high above them, their constant presence somehow a friendly sight; crumbs of light cast to show the way; thread unspooled into the labyrinth – assuring her that the exit lies just over this way.

A few quick turns and Bragi found a small and empty drawing room for them.

It was a tall room that was round-ish in shape and quite small. Darcy wondered whether it meant they were in a tower-like structure. Bragi closed the door behind them and dropped the wooden bar across to lock. In the middle was a circular table with three chairs; it was not due to lack of space; judging by the size, they can easily fit two more, and maybe a third. Darcy could not stop thinking about the number of chairs—why three? Wouldn’t it be natural to put four? Or six, since it’s half a dozen?

Why does the room have the exact number of chairs that they need?

 _Take a deep breath, Darce. I think you’re panicking. You’re overthinking this_.

They each took a seat without a word.

“Who called the Allthing into being?” Veth rasped.

“It is a long story,” Bragi hedged.

“But surely, we can start there,” Veth said again.

“And you can fill us on the backstory as we go. It could work,” Darcy said, feeling more dread than curiosity for what she was about to hear. She was telling herself over and over that _it can’t be that bad_. Bragi took one long indrawn breath.

“Frey called the Allthing into being,” was the answer.

Veth was confused. “Why? I don’t understand.”

“To call Odin into account—but not many knew this. Not many would accept his reason, even if Odin himself can accept it and Tyr decides to adjudicate it. It will all be within the Council of Kings and their discussions will stay there. To the others, the timing of this Allthing may be unusual, but it is not unexpected either. It was already about time for another one to coordinate. It was perhaps time to discuss on the position of Midgard with its maturing people. That is the official reason.”

“But the actual reason didn’t stay there, did it? It was not known just to this Council of Kings” Darcy asked, not _really_ looking forward to the answer. Her gut feeling was going wild. “That was why there was tension enough to break into a fight. Somehow it got out, people got wind of it. The Aesir felt the Vanir was being ridiculous and the Vanir thinks the Aesir is being arrogant if they can’t take something as small as this.”

 _The more things change, the more they stay the same_ , she thought. Unlike presidents of modern earth countries, she guessed that the citizens of the Nine Realms generally felt a strong attachment to their kings and queens, or High Kings and High Queens because they’ve been ruling for some time. The long reign instead of periodical change was also conducive for personal attachment to grow. Therefore, when a ruler is questioned, it can easily look like his or her _personal integrity_ is the one being questioned. Somehow, the act itself cannot be a neutral governing one of mere checking and rechecking of actions and events, or perhaps to try to evaluate what has gone wrong from the last messed-up policies and what can be fixed going forward. It becomes a _political_ act. It can be construed as an attempt to _attack_ the said queen. Or king.

“This is the pitfalls of having a leader with a strong personality. The man and the position is so tightly intertwined, that in the end, each becomes _interchangeable_. No one can question the position without ending up looking as if one is questioning the man, personally.” Darcy stated.

 _This is why presidential term limits are put in place_ , Darcy thought with a sigh. To stop that inexorable merge. Kingdoms certainly don’t work with that, though.

“People are not unfeeling robots. When they have bad or incompetent rulers, they will despise them. Yet when they have a good or competent one, people will celebrate with their successes and grieve with their failures. Together. In those cases, it’s hard to avoid the king and the throne slowly merging into one being.”

Some patterns in history were still familiar even now due to people’s tendency to repeat themselves.

She groaned and dropped her face into her hands. “If they’re kids at my high school, the Aesir and Vanir are certainly _not_ eating lunch at the same table and everyone has started whispering behind them. Now that I’ve told you about my two cents, please tell me how much I got wrong, Bragi.”

Hawk had stilled in surprise in the middle of her explanation, giving her all his attention. Darcy, being too occupied in _not thinking_ about the pissy world for as long as she could, did not see the impressed look given by the elf next to her.

“Perhaps you would like to guess of Frey’s actual reason?” Bragi calmly asked.

“Ha, no way. _There are more things in heaven and earth than is dreamt of in your philosophy_ ,” she quoted, right before she looked up again. “How the heck would I know what Nine Realm political issue turned into a landmine between Odin and Frey? There’s more things that have happened between them than there are years in _my life_. Times ten.”

“Oh, it is not something you are completely unfamiliar with. In fact, considering that you are a Midgardian, I am sure you are _very_ familiar with several of the issues.” Bragi answered.

All the big Problems with a capital P that she’d experienced with the Asgardians was usually related to Loki’s shenanigans. People usually also mention _Loki_ like he’s such a problem too, and maybe that was the answer. Yet before Thor stopped being a royal pain, wasn’t he a jerk too? He’s just a different, more jock-like jerk than Loki. Who might Frey have an issue with? Wait, why should she choose? She could just make a safe guess by saying it’s one of them.

“Let me guess, the Allfather has kids that are…problematic?” Darcy asked.

“Close enough, even if not quite there yet. There have been more large inter-realm conflicts in this last century than there had been in the _half a millennium that came before that_. Frey finds this to be a worrying pattern for the stability of Nine Realms. He wishes to make sure that Odin is indeed still capable at being the Allfather. Especially after the unexpected loss of Friga.” Bragi answered.

Darcy and Veth winced at that.

“Oh, that’s a pretty low blow, isn’t it?” Darcy couldn’t help asking. The Bard raised his hands in a ‘what can one do’ gesture.

“Well, no one has mentioned it, but it is clearly on everyone’s mind.”

“Things must have changed drastically since I last came,” Hawk mused. “Unlike all my previous journeys.”

“Really?” She asked, curious about what he meant.

“I am sure that even if Frey is High King of Vanaheim, he will not have dared to question Odin in the Allthing if Tyr had not given weight to his concern beforehand. Yet for Tyr to agree that Frey has a point and provide his support…what has happened in the Nine Realms?” Veth asked, glancing between Bragi and Darcy.

Bragi took a deep breath. “You know of the old war against the Frost Giants already, thus we can leave that story for now. Recently, there was a failed attack in Asgard. An Asgardian unit lead by its prince trespassed on Jötunheim’s grounds, infringing its sovereignty in anger at the attack. A battle was clearly fought on the main planet of the Frost Giants. This precipitates in a declaration of war from Jötunheim. Jötunheim invades Asgard soon afterwards.”

“The winner of this series of conflict is not a mystery.” Bragi finishes.

“Asgard,” Hawk said.

“Yes. But there has been more. Not too long after that, an Asgardian prince lead an attempted invasion against earth.” Bragi began again. Darcy cringed, knowing how bad it was going to look like.

 _Oh boy_. Darcy noticed that Bragi had not used names at all, only titles. But even as she thought of bringing the issue up to him, she thought it over. After a while, she had to marvel on the ingenuity of it. For people from other realms, how many of them actually noticed whether it was Thor or Loki involved? How many of them just saw it as “oh, it’s one of the princes of Asgard”? This is especially true when one considers that the two of them had been up to many adventures (and mess) together for centuries, going by Thor’s stories.

They’d been inseparable.

“Yet the princes of Asgard have saved Midgard once from this ancient dark elf King,” Veth tried to comprehend the last news that Bragi had just told him. “But they’ve tried to invade it…how many times now?”

“It was never both princes at once doing any invading. Most of the time, it was only one of them that was experiencing a terrible lapse of judgment.” Bragi replied.

Darcy guessed that he was a terrifying opponent at poker, because one really couldn’t guess what the event looked like to people who _knew_ said princes from the way Bragi told it. He truly provided the distant, bird’s eye view, and he somehow managed to remove his emotional reaction from the telling as well. One might guess that he had known about all this from the news on television than from knowing the people involved.

“But doesn’t that make it worse?” the elf asked, “if you mean to imply that they _don’t_ experience a lapse of judgment at the same time, then one would always try to hold back or to oppose his sibling.”

“Well, that’s good, isn’t it?” Darcy asked. “At least they counter each other that way.”

“Yes. If it was only Jötunheim, they are being careless, but it does not matter as Jötunheim can easily meet force with force and give them their due for their insolence. Yet when Midgard is the centre of their conflict, it means that a whole _Realm_ that has not matured far enough has become yet another counter in their sibling rivalry!” Vethrfölnir couldn’t raise his voice – it was thin enough as it is, but the intensity was there.

“I can certainly understand why Lord Tyr’s accepted Frey’s concern as _reasonable_.”

“Well, neither I nor my liege minded the Allthing overly much. Things are as it should be.” Bragi said, unconcerned by the Hawk’s disbelief of what the scions of Asgard were up to.

“Oh no, it’s _not_.” Veth replied, shaking his head with certainty. “This is just the surface.”

The Bard frowned. “What surface?”

“There is a larger problem in Midgard that no one yet sees. There, the heavens are unravelling. The signal is faint, but I can sense it better than almost any instrument as I’ve flown directly above the system…and then above the planet itself.” He said, softly. It only made the news he bore seem that much more dangerous.

“What do you _mean_ by ‘the heavens are unravelling’?” Darcy asked. She was sitting straight up and tense in her seat.

“Perhaps it’s just a weather issue…a space weather. Their sun has been more active than usual, perhaps? Intense solar storms on its surface?” Bragi’s questions followed Darcy’s, egged on by the same unease.

The Hawk stared them down with tired eyes as bright as citrine, unmoved by their worry or doubt. The weight of _knowing_ gaze did not look remotely human at all.

“Do you think I would not recognise a sunstorm when I see it? No, I am quite sure it is an Unravelling. It has to be mended soon and quickly. This is my main reason of being here. It is unpleasant to be the bearer of bad news, but such is far better for any unfortunate people affected than if there were none.”

Darcy couldn’t help it. “What _is_ the Unravelling? What’s wrong with Earth?”

“Yet for it to start at earth is… _impossible_. It would have been Asgard if it was anywhere, isn’t it?” Bragi asked back with insistence. Hawk’s answer to those questions was just a light raising of his shoulders.

“Does any prophecy or sayings ever say that, Bragi? I am not aware of much lore, but the Hawk knows what it sees with the Hawk’s eyes, and that is all my explanation. If you doubt me, well, imagine what the consequences will be if I’m actually right and was ignored.” The elf stated, as inscrutable as many of his race.

“What. _Is._ the Unravelling?” Darcy added a snap to her voice, using that thin line between a question and an order that mothers are good at. Her mother was certainly good at that, and she freely borrowed that style.

Vethrfölnir finally turned his gaze to her, so did Bragi. The Bard started after prefacing it with a heavy sigh.

“As far as we know…”

“…it is one of the earliest signs of the Fimbulwinter,” the Hawk finished, his expression grave.

‘-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! We finally get an idea of what it was that was worrying Vethrfölnir when he was still flying high up in space.
> 
> _On mythology_ : there are definitely mythological allusions everywhere in this chapter and others that will come after this. Considering we’ve gone full Nine Realms in scope, it’s inevitable. I’ve been reading at least two-thirds of Edward Turville-Petre’s _Myth and Religion of the North: The Religion of Ancient Scandinavia_ repeatedly and I ended up seeing connections and potential all over the place. Read on to the glossary if you want to know for sure. 
> 
> _Gullveig_ dies after being stabbed with several spears at once and then burned in a pyre, and I don’t think she’s dead when she was being burned, as she was still spitting curses at the Asgardians as her last words. As this is one of the triggers of the Aesir - Vanir war, it’s certainly from the time of the Bad Old Days. 
> 
>  
> 
> Random Norse-ish Glossary:
> 
> **Fimbulwinter:** (Norse Mythology) Great Winter (of Ragnarok). Oddly enough, I first encountered the term from Charles Stross’ _Laundry Files_ series. As for now, let me just quote the Younger Eddas/Prose Edda of Snorri Sturleson for this (Benjamin Thorpe’s translation from Old Norse into English, 1906—for anyone interested, you can easily download it from Project Gutenberg):
>
>> 63\. "I have not heard before of Ragnarok," said Gangler; "what hast thou to tell me about it?"  
>  "There are many very notable circumstances concerning it," replied Har, "which I can inform thee of. In the first place will come the winter, called Fimbulwinter, during which snow will fall from the four corners of the world; the frosts will be very severe, the wind piercing, the weather tempestuous, and the sun impart no gladness. Three such winters shall pass away without being tempered by a single summer. Three other similar winters follow, during which war and discord will spread over the whole globe…”
> 
> **_Fyrstandar_ :** This is a word I cobbled up from the Old Norse _fyrst_ (first, earlier, primordial) and _andi_ (spirit). I hope I get the plural form of _fyrst_ correct, while _andar_ (spirits) is certainly the plural of _andi_ (spirit). My literal translation of the _genii primordialium_. 
> 
> **Staðarandar:** I cobbled up this word from the Old Norse _staðr_ (location, site or place) and _andi_ (spirit). I just need to find the plural forms for both, with _staðr_ in genitive instead of the vanilla/standard nominative because it’s describing the _andar_. Yes, it’s a translation of the _genii locorum_ , and yes, I can get obsessed with details sometimes.
> 
>  
> 
> _More detailed notes on mythology:_
> 
> _(seriously, skip this unless you’re a huge nerd like me, not really related to the story. I’m just OCD when it comes to references.)_
> 
> There’s all sorts of other books on Norse mythology too that I just read a page or several (or a chapter or two). The ones I read in the largest parts are Turville-Petre’s, as I’ve mentioned before, then Hilda Davidson’s _Gods and Myths of Northern Europe_. Davidson’s work takes a more anthropological point of view compared to Turvile-Petre’s more philological angle. Also, we can’t speak of Indo-European mythology without hitting Dumézil’s body of work, so there’s that too (I failed to get my hands on Dumézil’s _Loki_ , though*). I hope I managed to enrich my fic from all those readings.
> 
> To anyone interested in deepening their knowledge of Norse mythology and is ready for the more serious stuff beyond basic introduction, I recommend picking up either Turville-Petre’s or Davidson’s aforementioned work. Both are classics in the field. John Lindow’s _Norse Mythology: A Guide to the Gods, Heroes, Rituals and Beliefs_ is also useful index of characters and events, along with providing some basic grounding in the worldview the myths are embedded in. His chapter on Time (especially Mythic and Cyclical time is useful).
> 
> *I am more useless than I thought I’d be on this front. I managed to pick up a version of Dumézil’s _Loki_ that’s printed in Blackletter. I mean, my German is crappy/nonexistent enough as it is, any illusion of ability that I have just dies when I have to slog through an arcane font as well.  
>  '-


	37. XXXVII. Histories and Mysteries, Part 2 (A Tributary of Plans)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Vethrfölnir explains how he experiences things to Darcy. He also explains why his news is really bad news. Darcy has an uneasy sleep. A valley in Jötunheim. Pipework inspection. A conversation on positions and stands. Loki wakes up._

### XXXVII. Histories and Mysteries, Part 2 (A Tributary of Plans)

All the conversations she had on the Opening Feast of the Allthing wasn’t exactly something that was going to make Darcy sleep easy.

Oh, it was a success by all the standards she’d set herself in the afternoon. She had been determined to go around and chat people up, to get to know more Nine Realm denizens than just the Sif and the Warriors Three or any other Asgardians she’d come to know now. No, she was a diplomat now, dammit, and she would rub elbows and make friends and make sure she knew who’s who and what’s what for all the key people here. They would know that Earth wasn’t such a backwater place and that it had even sent an ambassador to the Allthing.

She was flush with success after she’d managed to calm Avaldi down and encourage him not do anything rash. She was happy to see that Sif had decided to trust him for now too. Yet even that did not last in the light of the news that Veth broke to her.

_Fimbulwinter_. The cold end of the universe.

Darcy had to ask him directly.

_Are you sure that it’s not just because Earth is under a Frost Giant invasion right now?_ Darcy asked.

She heard the sharp intake of breath from Bragi and assumed that it was clearly news to him. Well, she _was_ planning to break the news sooner or later and explain, but now was a good time as any. Still, Veth, was unmoved by that.

_Life and death, wealth and ruin, war and peace, growth and rot – these are the cycles of life that any people and their civilisation will go through. The Nine Realms can take care of the matter without the interference of someone who has not been around for centuries that all the maps he remembers are almost certain to be wrong_. Veth answered.

_How could you be so certain that your cause of your worry is not just from the invasion?_ She asked.

It had surprised Veth at the beginning to realise that Darcy was a Midgardian when Bragi properly introduced her. This was after they’ve gone over the gist of Veth’s sombre news as well as his earlier memory slippage. After it was explained to him, he understood her concern and sense of emergency better. Now, he stayed quiet and closed his eyes as he gathered his thoughts and memory. For all intents and purposes, he looked as if he’d just fallen into a light sleep in the chair. Bragi clarified to her that the Allspeak was not always the most natural language that came to Veth’s tongue. It was not his first language or even his fourth, for that matter.

When he opened his eyes once more, he spoke with a steady rolling cadence. His voice had seemed older then, for some reason.

_I would not be so sure of what I see if I was just another Alvar or Svartalvar or Aesir or Vanir. It would not matter if I was another Jötnar or Muspellir. Even if I was directly over Midgard, I would have seen nothing but a bountiful and rising planet, the jewel of its system. But I am not merely Vethrfölnir of Alfheim. I am also the Hawk, the Watcher of All the Skies. I am the Hawk Watching Over the World Tree who has flown star-strewn skies before civilisations sprung across the Nine Realms._

_We are one and we are the same now._

He took a deep breath after a short pause, seeming to have come to a decision on something. He turned to her.

_Have you seen the birth of a star?_

His voice was kind when he asked this, with a wellspring of patience Darcy was sure she hadn’t seen before. He was still the same man as before…and yet he was also somehow _different_.

Darcy shook her head.

_No?_ He looked ahead into some farther distance.

_Well, for a while, it has only been a wheel of clouds, collecting and gathering into tighter and tighter clumps as it turns. You do not take heed of it much as it had been like that for a while. It is hard to imagine that it will change greatly in another moment or so. Yet as the wheel spins faster and faster, the mass at its heart approaches a grave turning point. Everything will happen quickly and at once, as you find the clouds and dust disappearing as the core eats all it can reach in its growing hunger._

_You can hear it their music by then. It had been slow and steady, a barely-there rhythm before, but more sounds had arisen by now into something with an actual melody._

He paused. The amazement in his eyes made Darcy think that he could still see it all again.

_The chorus rises. You pause and turn now, curious of this change. You turned at the right time, where the prologue shifts into the main theme, as the heart of the small ball of cloud and dusts now begins to glow._

_And there was light._

_It is bright and warming now from where there had been darkness._

_Now you know that whenever you pass this small corner of the universe again, you will never be alone. The cheerful foundry of the star’s heart will not stop for many aeons. It is not a bleak emptiness anymore here either. The remaining dust will also collect into separate lumps of its own and form the star’s children. One day, you may even land on them, taking respite from the nothingness of space for a moment. One day, some of the planets will have a weather system of their own and winds will blow and clouds form._

_One day…_

He drifted away in recollection. With a shake of his head, he was back in the present once more.

_I hear and feel the music of the universe, Darcy Lewis. This is what I do that the younger children of the world have yet to be able to do. When I approached Midgard’s system, I hear the chorus of its sun as welcoming as any young star would have been. I feel the increased pull of its gravity and the slighter tugs of its children. I hear the background thrum of the universe’s own rhythm underneath it all._

_Yet when I turn to Midgard…_ he shook his head.

_I have to concede that if I had been younger, I might have missed it too. The melody was only very slightly off, but it was enough to cause me to fly closer and wait. My suspicion bears fruit not long after. More and more wrong notes were slipping in as I listened. The elements…they are falling apart faster than they should. It is as if a fruit-bearing tree has scarcely ripened before its load rotted and fall…_

He shook his head again. His hands stopped their movements in the air like a conductor that had heard sour notes from his orchestra and wished for everyone to try again, his expression no less exasperated. Yes, right from the beginning. No, he didn’t care if they were already two thirds over this movement; that last mistake was really bad.

_Bragi, I am not a dedicated scholar as some of my peers. I am unsure of the words…_

The Asgardian only nodded and guided him with questions. _Well then, tell us of your chief worry_.

_That would be Midgard’s sun, to start with—and all the stars in all the realms, above all_ , Hawk answered.

_What are you worried for?_ Bragi asked. _What are the loudest fears in your mind right now?_

_I am worried that its heart will stop beating far from its natural old age. I am worried that the Unravelling will force Age on all the stars, calling their deaths at once against the natural cycle of life, death and rebirth. There would not be any new stars in aeons of aeons after most have died! I worry still that there will ever be any new stars at_ all _if even the cradles have turned to cold lifeless tombs!_

_How could it be?_ Darcy asked.

His already quiet voice fell into a hush. She had to lean forward to listen to him.

_When the elements fall apart faster, everything else follows suit_.

Well. If you followed Hawk’s perspective, one can understand why he thought wars and peace across planets were really the ebb and flow of life, something regular and normal that it was not for him to interfere with. One might disagree with his position, but considering that what he watches are actually the skies and its stars, was his position surprising?

_Why is it happening?_ Darcy couldn’t stop the fear from surfacing.

_If I know, I would have been less afraid_ , the Hawk answered with bracing honesty. _Then, I might think of fixing it instead of how things may fall sooner rather than later_.

_Have you expressed all this to Tyr?_ Bragi had asked.

_Certainly. He has promised that he will get to the bottom of this, but now I am concerned that the rising tension between Aesir and Vanir will take a good amount of his attention_.

_Tyr is not so careless to forget such important news_ , the Bard replied.

_I agree,_ Veth said. _And yet even if he is the Eagle of the Tree himself, he has his limits like all of us, even if that limit is far more immense and incomprehensible. I am afraid that it will be tested now. I am afraid that we will find out the hard way of how much strain he can bear. I am afraid…_

He did not finish his sentence. Darcy hadn’t really needed him to do so, as she can easily fill in the blanks with too many unsavoury possibilities.

These possibilities followed her throughout the whole feast, dodging her steps, adding a shadow to the corner of her smile that she cannot quite banish. She managed to talk with more people after that. There was undoubtedly some satisfaction to be had at seeing their interested and intrigued expressions at the idea that Midgard has caught up enough to involve itself with Nine Realms politics, or how the person they sent wasn’t a total idiot or a useless sycophant.

She just kinda wished she had experienced all this _before_ she heard Veth’s bad news. It still haunted her as she laid down on the bed, trying to sleep.

Honestly, she would’ve slept better if she was just a mere poli-sci student.

Jane wasn’t someone who would leave other people’s unknowing alone. Never mind an undergraduate student, there was this one time when they were camping out in some small city’s library, trying to take a break. Darcy made a beeline for the trashy romance section to numb her poor, overworked brain. Jane, on the other hand, was reading stuff like _Science_ as well as other astrophysics publications. How _that_ was still entertaining for Jane, Darcy had no idea. Two kids asked Jane about their home works because they what she was reading, and Jane invited them to sit with her and shifted right into Professor Foster mode.

She did that for _at least_ one and a half hour. Darcy would bet that they’d reached more than two. Jane didn’t even look annoyed at the intrusion. She was sometimes exasperated, as often with herself as it was with the kids while she tried to come up with easier ways to explain things, but she never gave up. Darcy only read her novels half the time—the other half was spent watching Jane and the kids curiously. She wouldn’t be surprised if Jane ended up writing recommendations for them to enter physics in college.

That was just the type of person that Jane was.

Unfortunately for Darcy’s current peace of mind, that meant that Jane didn’t mind explaining to her poli-sci intern what astrophysics was about in their spare time. Like, the birth and death of stars.

If someone were to ask her to explain what exactly Jane taught her, she would screw it up. Darcy was sure there were a lot of parts that would sound like ‘and so, this dust cloud stuff just clumps together and make stars. And that dust cloud? That now becomes star fuel. What is star fuel? Eh, dunno…but seriously, stars only blow up when they run out of fuel to burn.’ For all that, she was pretty sure she got the gist of it—enough to understand that the Hawk was talking about the same life cycle of stars that Jane had explained more than once to her.

Darcy knew enough to notice that Hawk wasn’t even talking about stars running out of fuel faster, or the presence of something that was taking some of the fuel. That was her first thought when he said the stars would age faster. Sucking fuel out of stars sounded like an awesome heist for a supervillain that she almost wanted to wonder if it was possible; maybe she could search around about it in the internet as well as ask Jane about how plausible it would be, and if yes, what it would take. Then, she remembered that there _are_ real, freaking _supervillains_ out there and she didn’t need to give them ideas, as she would certainly leave tracks if she asked around in the depths of various internet forums. Like that CERN forum for which Jane casually made Darcy a user id there.

(Darcy had used it for the totally boring and normal purpose of logistical management for Jane’s several trip there, coordinating with other administrative people who form the support staffs for the scientists there).

_Urgh. Life sucks._

If Jane was here, she would’ve known what to ask. She’d figure out where to begin with this unnatural aging thing. And here she thought that the most basic elements of the universe would last near forever! _If wishes were horses then beggars would ride_ , her mother would say. She was right, too.

It was in the midst of all this vague fretting that Darcy fell asleep.

‘-

The mists blanketed the town, giving the streetlights an odd, disembodied look. They look like lanterns floating above nothingness. Darcy vaguely remembered seeing all this when she glanced out of the window of her room—and yet, when _wasn’t_ there mists here? It was just a quirk of the local weather everyone had gotten used to.

She merely shrugged and got ready to go down to the club’s floor.

The piano was clear and the brass was bold. The music drew them all in with cosy confidence. No new gangs were moving in from anywhere recently. No one had been stupid in the last week or so that had the local dicks swarming the streets, looking for a reason to ‘enforce’ the law and order—even the cryptic blue giants that had just turfed out one of the gangs in town had kept their head down and antagonised no one for now. The peaceful atmosphere was pretty good for business.

It was a good night, one where the _Two Queens_ were filled to the brim.

The singer on stage was the blonde with the domino mask, her confidence was a fire drawing in the mesmerised moths of her audience. Darcy wondered if that meant they had another permanent singer than a part-time one.

_Hope Red doesn’t mind the competition_ , Darcy said, in her seat.

_Oh, I don’t think she does_ , Sarah replied. _She said some of her other side gigs were getting busier too, so she’s pretty glad that we have someone else we can rely on_.

They sat side-by-side, at one of the higher tables at the back, on the deck that hugged half of the club’s walls. The height made it a convenient place to keep watch. Darcy’s dress was a dark plum while Sarah’s was gunmetal grey, their hats matching their dresses. Darcy’s loyal feathered snake wrapped himself snugly around her neck, easily passing for the fake kind of feather boa. Sarah had that half-feathered small cape Darcy had seen before.

_She’s good at drawing in the crowd_.

Sarah nodded, a knowing look in her eyes. _Oh yes. Or at least, her fans aren’t so simultaneously terrified and exhilarated that they dared not cross her. But with Red, we never have to worry about crowding in the stage_.

Darcy laughed. That sounded like Natasha alright. She had _perfect_ crowd control, but she was not someone who would wind up the crowd on purpose, even if that would make more curious passer-by to check the club out. Neither would she shout at them like the blonde just did.

_So_ that’s _why Number 19 is behind the bar and Vision is at the floor instead_. Darcy commented. She had been wondering their robot bartender wasn’t at his usual post, and that a colleague of his was filling in his stead. Vision was one of the strongest robots employed, and the most intelligent. He was the best fit.

_Yep. Someone has to watch over the crowd_.

It would explain his different uniform. And his wig. And his—

_Nice fake skin_ , Darcy casually commented.

Sarah snorted. _More like a fake tan. Good enough to pass under these lights_. Like any club worth its name, their lights were low and spread out. Like anyone who doesn’t want to be assed to care whether robots and people mingle (or do a bit more than mingle), the low lighting helped in more than one way.

Darcy took a closer look at Sarah’s dress and shook her head with a wry grin.

_We really should just shop together sometimes. Maybe we could make sure we don’t get something so similar_.

Sarah only rolled her eyes. _You know what would happen that way? We’d end up wanting the same dress, or the same shoes, or the same bag—and wouldn’t_ that _be annoying. It’s not such a big deal, Slugger. We’re still not like twin patsies in their Sunday best_.

Even when they’d bought their dresses separately, it still looked like they come from the same set or the same fashion house. That their tastes occasionally veered unexpectedly close was just an aspect of life that Darcy was used to ever since she’d lived with Sarah.

_So, who’s she?_ Darcy asked, glancing at the stage.

_She told me to call her Polly_.

Darcy glanced on the stage again. _Polly? She doesn’t look like a Polly to me_.

Sarah shrugged. _She doesn’t look like a Polly to me either, but if she wants to be known as Polly Glossa, that’s what I’ll put on the bill_.

Darcy’s friend was twirling a long cigarette holder in one hand, languidly leaning back with the grace of a silver screen siren. Sarah didn’t smoke, but Darcy had no idea what it was for instead. A scuffling sound nearby drew their attention as a goblin came up the deck with a tray, an envelope on it.

_Le’er for the Missus._

Sarah lit the cigarette and casually waved her cigarette holder over the delivery. Wisps of smoke danced over paper, some drifting her way. Darcy caught a whiff of jasmine and something other flower instead of tobacco. _That’s no cigarette_ , she thought. There was also a glimmer of a few sparks. It was probably only some embers falling, of whatever fragrant thing that Sarah had burned. Incense? Yes, maybe it was a short incense stick that she stuck on that cigarette holder.

_Oh, well. Safe enough,_ Sarah said. The brunette picked it up, thanking the goblin and dismissing it. She handed it over to Darcy after a glance. _Seems like it’s for you_.

_Hmm. What did you just do?_ Darcy murmured.

_Avoiding booby traps_ , Sarah answered. _Seems like you’ve got some important friends_.

She understood what Sarah meant. The envelope was of smooth heavy paper: _To Darcy Lewis, Proprietress of the Two Queens_. She opened it and drew the thick card inside out, the faintest trace of eglantine hung in the air. It was the type of invitation that Jay Gatsby wouldn’t be embarrassed to issue and something that the glitterati of Gotham would accept the moment they lay their eyes on it.

_Seems like it_ , Darcy answered.

_What is it?_

_A new company town, built by Asgard Corporate Enterprises_.

_What?_

Sarah’s surprise went unanswered as Darcy had finished reading the card and was now rushing away. _Hold the fort! I’ll be off for the weekend!_

_Do you_ really _have to go tonight?_ Sarah yelled back above the din. She picked up the card Darcy had left behind and scanned the invitation.

_Well, I do if I want to take the overnight train!_

She missed her friend’s surprised expression, or her own mutterings after that. _I didn’t know there was a train station…maybe I should check that out sometime_.

‘-

Darcy did not remember much how she got to the train station.

It was probably a very boring trip after she manged to hail a cab, bag in hand. When she’d arrived, it was predictably quite empty as it was pretty late. The newsstands had closed (of course). It would seem that the mists were everywhere, as even the inside of the station was wreathed in slight fog. People were now only blurred forms moving in the distance, and she could hardly see the details of the gate at the other side of the station, across all the platforms. The lights also had an eerie floating feel. The young man manning the ticket booth was either sleepy or very bored. Bored enough to start nodding off in the absence of customers.

Darcy was sure she remembered the name of the small train station enough to request a ticket for it. Well, she half-remembered it and she was a bit regretful now that she didn’t take back the invitation from Sarah. Yet as Sarah herself would say, what’s done is done. She knew it was somewhere in the Jötunheim region, for one, and it ended with - _dale_. _So, it certainly is around a valley somewhere_.

Once she only looked at the sparse train stations in the more mountainous regions, she could find easily.

“One ticket please,” she said.

She pointed to the map to clarify and told him the train stations before and after it as well, to make sure he didn’t mishear her the first time and got it wrong. The teenager gave her the ticket and was even kind enough to suggest that she also buy a map of the area. It wasn’t such a bad suggestion.

Map and ticket at hand, Darcy picked up her bag and walked to the platform he’d indicated. She was lucky enough that the last train of the night hadn’t left yet.

_I wonder what he’s up to now_.

‘-

The weather in the valley generally involved wind and snow. The only reason that Loki didn’t call it a snowstorm most of the time was because he’d seen worse. This annoying combination of wind stinging the eyes and snowflakes to lower visibility made him to discount things he thought he saw in the distance.

Well, most of the time.

When he looked up, the first thing that crossed his mind was, _I think I haven’t been sleeping enough_. Perhaps he had been too tired that he was sleepwalking now and imagining things.

The woman that had just walked out of the Ford was something he could not ignore. Dark hair secured by her hat still trailed behind her like smoke on the water. Her quirky preference for a feather boa instead of a scarf drew his eye. The flash of plum coloured dress under her coat flared in his mind in the midst of the monochromatic landscape.

There were Jötnar to her left and right; guards and securities as well as the workmen on the project. The one who had opened her door of the car with annoyance was a Frost Giant, and all she’d done was to thank him and move on. He was quite sure that the giants that had escorted her was complaining to his friends right now, from the way they huddled in the background, but Loki really couldn’t care less about the guards when she barely spared them another glance. It was clear that she wasn’t even worried about them.

She had unerringly spotted him from the moment she stepped down, moving with a single-minded determination through the snow-covered field.

A woman with the bearing of a queen…

He was helpless to stop the thought from surfacing in his mind. He could not stop it from impressing itself even more strongly upon his memories of her, especially once he saw her lush red lips as vivid as blood upon the snow. Her cheeks bloomed with the rose of good health and too tempting to touch. She was as spring and life itself in this place of winter and death and he found himself losing the details of everything else in the scene except her. And that he didn’t mind.

This may possibly explain why his first sentence was a verbal vomit.

_Why are you here?_

Darcy rolled her eyes. _It’s good to meet you too, Silvertongue. You sent an invite, remember? Like hell I’d know where you are if you didn’t tell me. I thought that I need to check out what you’re up to before you get into an even bigger mess than either of us can clean up_.

Her tongue did not get any less sharp from lack of practice with him. She was just as unafraid as he remembered. Oddly enough, her valour was a comforting thought—that no matter how far he went, some things stayed the same. Darcy’s brows creased in mild confusion.

_Wait, why are you smiling?_

Yet she did not move away, too caught up in his gaze even as he fell for hers. He could not recall whether he drew her into his arms or whether she had reached out for him.

They were too caught up in their own storm to notice.

‘-

Darcy was worried and pissed-off enough to decide to slap Loki the moment they met.

She had planned it the moment she walked out of that car, from when her gaze was momentarily pulled by the jagged mountain looming above others in the sharp and unfriendly mountain range ahead of her.

The giants next to her weren’t a concern; her feathered snake hissed, showing its fangs, and they backed off quickly. It was not hard to find him either. Standing at the edge of an open field there was only one that gave the impression of a well-dressed crow, flashy for a festive funeral. There was not a spot of colour other than black in his suit, except for his incongruously cheerful scarf with the hues of violets. Even his hat was smart black silk. Darcy had to restrain the urge to snort at his completely gentlemanly appearance—he was as deeply involved in the back dealings of the city as any sleazy politician or gangster.

Her thoughts halted the moment he saw her.

Whatever path his previous walk was supposed to take was completely forgotten. She was half-certain that he was in the middle of inspecting something from his movements, and yet there he stayed. He was transfixed in her direction. She would have said something about how funny that he followed her position like a cobra to its piper, but she was too self-conscious to do so. There wasn’t anything on her face, right? _Right?_

When they were closer, she could see how his expression became less severe. Even as she mouthed off her annoyance at his non-greeting, she was getting distracted by the smile that brightened his face. He was still not looking away.

She even forgot to immediately slap him.

His joy was too real. Darcy forgot about all the walls she intended to build against him. Her body relaxed before she realised it the moment he enfolded her into his embrace. Their kiss was sweeter than she’d liked because she didn’t want to fall for him even if it was just one inch. Yet it was also sharper than she’d expected; she didn’t know that she was going to be the one who bit his jaw, just to pull out a desperate sound from him, to take half a step back and force him to follow. She didn’t know that he’d do it without a second thought, without calculation. It was more consuming than she wanted because losing herself in him didn’t sound like the beginning of anything good.

Yet it wasn’t the worst. The worst was when, for all the flames they ignited in each other, he held her gently and buried his face at the crook of her neck. His breath caused her to shiver, as if phantom fingers trailed up her spine.

_What are you doing?_

_Memorising your scent. I’ve woken up several times now thinking I caught it_.

His hand was comforting at the back of her shoulders and held her close. Her throat felt dry. She wanted to close her eyes and take in his scent too.

_And…?_

_I’m sure I won’t get fooled by weaker imitations this time_.

It felt as if something was squeezed inside her chest. She was selfish enough to appreciate the fleeting bliss it gave her, and yet she also wished he wouldn’t be so nice. For the sake of her own common sense.

_Would you care?_ She asked. _I_ know _that some frost giant gangs are trying to take over the city. As much as I don’t like the different mafia families, or the incompetent police there or the corrupt city hall, they’re pretty low profile in dealing with their rivalries and making their messes as it is and some form of peace exists. On the other hands, your new friends are very free with violence_.

She forced herself to step out of his arms.

_Would you even care? I suppose…I suppose you don’t if you’re joining forces with them_.

Her words had a sobering effect on him.

_I’m not interested in attacking the city_ , he clarified. _You know I move for my own gain. What would I get from helping them start a gang war?_

He took a casual step forward and she moved to the side without thought.

_Oh, sure. But you’re not going to lose any sleep over the fact that they’re doing just that. You know my place is right in the middle of the city centre and I’m not going anywhere_. Her casual shrug belied the worry that had been churning in her gut for a while. Darcy was doing her best to look calm and composed because the other alternative was to break down in front of him. And she wasn’t going to give him that victory.

_So, maybe this is going to be the last time we could meet, eh? Who knows who’d still be standing at the end_.

She couldn’t stop the bitter edge from colouring the wide smile that she gave him. His jaws tightened. 

_This won’t be our last meeting_. His reply came quickly before she could say anything else. _I’ll guarantee it_.

_Oh, I know that most people wouldn’t think a dame is dangerous, but it’s not as if I’ll sit tight enough for them to ignore me._ She waved it away. _I’m not going to be the spoils of war, Lope. I’ll fight for my home until the very end—you know that, don’t you?_

Loki had just passed annoyed and went straight into pissed off. For some weird reason, it gave her not a little amount of satisfaction.

_They would have had their war even if I wasn’t here,_ he clarified. _The head of their organisation is Byleistr, not me, in case you hadn’t realised it yet. Oh, for goodness’ sakes Ikhné, just come over here and let me show you something first and_ then _you can make up your mind_.

He didn’t take another step closer, respecting her distance, but he did offer her his black-gloved hand. She took it and let him pull her to his side.

_Now, see the trench I’m inspecting?_

Darcy gazed down. At first, she had thought that they were at the edge of a small town that had surprisingly grown up in only a few weeks, with Loki walking in the fields around it. Now that she was here, she realised she was wrong. It was not a mere trench that Loki had been staring at before; it went at least two stories down and the depths were dark enough that the workers had hung lamps for lighting.

She had missed it because the snow had buried the mounds of earth that would result from such large-scale earthwork.

_What is_ that _?_

_What do you see?_ He asked back. She gazed down again.

_Pipes, a lot of pipes._

He nodded. _I’m doing a little consulting for them here. Some…hydrology consulting_.

Now, she could sense that his words had yet to paint the complete picture, but she was more patient now that she’d been. As Darcy lifted her head and tried to follow the ends of the trench, she also began to see that it curved gently in both directions. It was almost like an arc of the rainbow, and from the way that the two ends curved in the same direction, she could almost imagine them going around the town and meeting on the other side…

Darcy paused.

_This trench is actually a_ circle _, isn’t it? Going around the city?_ A quick look at the pipe work she’d seen showed her that they were only on the inside curve—there were scarcely any on the wall that was on the outside curve. It would seem that he was working on waterworks for the city. _You’re working on pipe works for the city_.

She could see the slight curve of his lips.

_Very good, Ikhné_.

She stared at him for another moment. His smile did not turn mocking at all. She decided to accept his praise at face value for now and observed the trench again as they walked beside it.

What else could she find out from the trench? It was unexpectedly deep if it was simply the waterworks project of a small town. Most of the pipes were on the city’s side and not outside; at first glance, this isn’t surprising, because why on earth would the city want to send water to outside the city? Most of the time, it would concern itself first with its citizens. Yet as they walked farther in a strangely companiable silence, she noticed that they were still some distance away from the city—the train station was nowhere at its centre. Considering the sparse situation of their surroundings, were all those pipes really necessary? If the trench was dug right next to Main Street, she wouldn’t be surprised at the thick network of pipes there—there are a lot of buildings there that would need water. Obviously.

But _here_ , at the edge of town?

Why lay extensive pipe under fields and where the next building is at least half a mile away, if not more? This tightly-intertwined pipe network did not change as they walk. The pipe network stayed as thick. This was when she noticed the third anomaly.

The pipes were pretty close to the surface for pipes. At first glance, she’d thought that the depth of the trench was to place pipes below. But she was wrong. The deeper she gazed, there were larger and thicker pipes, to be sure, but the network was now less. Most of the pipes in the deeper sections were vertical, as if their primary function was to carry water from the deeps upward.

_Why are the pipes placed so shallowly?_

_They’re placed where they need to be placed_ , he replied, as cryptic as usual. _I didn’t say it was standard work that was required here_.

The big pipes leading down was odd in itself as well. She wasn’t a hydrologist or anything, but those great pipes leading down gave her the impression that some great underground lake lay below the town. Basically, there must be some gigantic water source to feed all those pipes. Well, maybe that was true. Maybe there’s nothing wrong about building a town on top of a lake. She still couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something weird about it.

_Just a consulting hydrologist, huh?_ She asked sarcastically.

To her surprise, he grinned.

_The pipes are currently empty since we were encountering some difficulties in tapping the source._

_No water yet, then?_

He gave a careless shrug. _I’m sure I can solve it in a week, at most_.

Darcy snorted. How could she have forgotten his ego? He didn’t seem to be affected by her disbelief, his steady strides reflecting is confidence. She set aside the issue of the pipes at the moment since she couldn’t find any other weirdness or find any answers for now.

_So, why did you invite me all the way here?_

_I thought I might as well have you try to kill me to my face than later on where I can’t see you_.

_Oh, ha_ ha _, very funny, Silvertongue._

_It worked, doesn’t it? You’re here and not trying to kill me._

_I might still want to kick your ass later, depending on how bad you screw things up._

His muttered ‘I don’t screw things up’ was answered with a breezy ‘oh, you always screw _something_ up. I can wait,’ from her. He was certainly affronted but for some reason he did not reply to her raised eyebrow.

‘-

None of the blue giants approached them, staying far, far away from Loki. Walking arm-in-arm like this, they were the perfect picture of a courting couple. Darcy barely even thought about it, her mind taking much grimmer turns right now. She hadn’t even noticed that when she began drifting away from the trench, Loki easily matched her steps in that direction without a second thought instead of trying to pull her back. They maintained their closeness.

_You know that the city’s going to be teared down when the gang war breaks out, right?_ She asked. _The giants have serious firepower and everyone else is gearing up to match_.

The man in the black suit next to hear shrugged. _Gangs always find a reason to shoot at one another, some territory to fight over_.

_Not always on this scale. Shit, are you listening or not?_

_I_ am _listening,_ he insisted, turning to her for good measure. The snow was still falling noiselessly around them, blanketing the world in white.

_It’s bad enough that the feds decided they need to step in. It’s bad enough that the local PD doesn’t put up a lot of protest or try to slow ‘em down with red tape._ She took a deep breath.

_So, I joined the feds_.

His doubt and disbelief was easily readable on his face. Darcy continued her explanation. _There’s the inter-organization task force made to handle it, “The Avengers Initiative”. They’d need someone with an open channel to the different gangs and factions and I’m it. Didn’t know that having a club that’s more-or-less a neutral ground could be useful_.

_You don’t even_ like _the feds_. He pointed out.

_Doesn’t mean I can’t work with them_ , she replied. In his disbelief, Loki had come to a stop as he turned around to truly face her.

_What happened to keeping your friend’s research notes away from them? What happened to not giving the government opportunity to concentrate more power to interfere with people?_

_If you were on the ground more often, you’d know how big this upcoming war could be!_ Darcy snapped back. Does he really not know? Does he really not _see_?

_People are worried! If the feds are seriously asking the Wizard of Menlo Park to get an edge over this shit, then you can bet they’ll be checking out the Wizard of Wardenclyffe Tower too, for thoroughness! And if Edison, no, if_ Tesla _gets pulled into this then why do you think my friend would stay out of it?_

Jane might not be Tesla’s student in years, but she was still on top of his list for any possible collaboration opportunity. And Jane being Jane, she wouldn’t say no if she knew she could help.

_And you think_ I’d _stay out of the way in that case?_

_The Hammerhead can protect her just fine_ , Loki insisted. From the way he referred to his brother, it didn’t sound as if he gave him a better nickname than ‘blockhead’ or ‘lunkhead’.

_Do I look like someone who’d just stand aside and wait?_ She folded her arms in front of her chest and stared back at him, into dark eyes that were as endless space. She wasn’t blind to the lines of worry on his face, but she did not come this far without taking risks. They were at a stalemate.

_You’d be safer—_

_If I wanted safe, I wouldn’t have befriended you_ , she cut in. Then, she ploughed onwards before he started overthinking things. _I wouldn’t have stayed with Jane, I wouldn’t have been by her side all this time. I want to_ live _, not just to exist_.

She sighed. From the look on his face, it didn’t seem as if this was going to be done in one conversation. Not that it was a surprise—they have too many problems they needed to straighten out between them.

_If you have time to be worried about me, maybe you need to go home and check-up on things once in a while,_ Darcy stated.

_Home?_ His voice was soft. If she couldn’t recognise the sharp glint in his eyes, she would’ve been fooled and thought he was calm instead of on edge.

_Considering that you sent me an invite bearing the name of Asgard Corporate Enterprises, I think you have enough interest in Asgard to want to check it out too._

_Why would I need to know what that one-eyed man is up to?_

Darcy felt like slapping her palm to her forehead. She settled for an annoyed groan. She didn’t even _mention_ his father and his thought still automatically went there. Shit. It was just…no, she wasn’t touching his family issues with a ten-feet pole.

_I wasn’t even talking about him! Great Scott! It’s just…Lope, if you thought_ my _corner of the world is the only place that’s boiling, you’re sadly wrong. I know you’ve been away for a while, I just hope that you wouldn’t come back when it’s too late and everything’s all burned down to ashes. Or something_.

It was an exaggeration. She knew other cities were probably not as fragile as hers, but since she didn’t really know how bad things were, there’s still the possibility that she’s not exaggerating at all. She decided to err on the side of caution and overstate the risks.

His frown deepened.

_What do you know about…_

The wind blew harder. She wasn’t sure that she caught the final part of his sentence. Snow swirled around them, and Darcy vaguely wondered why she wasn’t feeling any colder.

‘-

Somewhere from the fog of sleep and the soothing sound of the wind, Loki could feel two sharp jab to his ribs. It annoyed him so much that he threw out two knives for it with his eyes closed. He didn’t think he needed to see to be able to aim at someone so close.

Several curse words were uttered close to him. He could feel a shift in the air around him and he woke up just enough to roll away and sit up. A sharp thud sounded to his left.

He opened his eyes.

Helblindi had hammered his staff right where his stomach had been before, a dark look on his face. Loki grudgingly pulled himself to join the waking world more completely. “What’s all the commotion about, Helblindi?”

“Do you always try to assassinate people who wake you up?”

“Do you always wake people by kicking them?” Loki asked back.

“If I hadn’t kicked you, that knife would have been too close to avoid.”

Loki rolled his eyes and stood up. “If you hadn’t kicked me, I wouldn’t have thought to throw a knife in the first place.”

He began to understand why the Jötunn tried to wake him up in the first place. They were under the open air. The skies had turned red with streaks of purple at the edges. The last thing he remembered was how he was checking the series of connected circle they’d carved on the ground with bleary eyes.

“I fell _asleep?_ ”

He said it without thought as the idea was too remarkable. _Right on the snow? Truly?_

“Yes, I was wondering about that too. Don’t be a fool and sleep on a real bed, Silvertongue.” The warlock had walked over to him and handed him a mug of warm drink.

“How nice of you to care,” Loki took it and drank without a second thought.

Poisoning wasn’t Helblindi’s style. He’d rather electrocute someone alive with his magic or bludgeon them to death. There was not that much challenge in poisoning anyone. Plus, he still had his use to the frost giants.

“I’d rather not have you become sloppy and ruin all my hard work. Troubleshooting is such a pain compared to constructing it well in the first place,” Helblindi replied.

“What, you don’t wish for this to be finished faster?”

“What faster? Fatigue will just make you _useless_. I don’t work with useless people.” He said without a care. “After you sleep, you can start bringing the one with the mastery of _genius loci_ knowledge you have been talking about. Or are you afraid?”

Loki frowned. “What do you mean by afraid?”

“It has been a while since you’ve visited Mimir. You are not stalling, are you, Liesmith?” The smirk on the Jötunn’s face was one that easily have multiple meanings.

Without expecting an answer, Helblindi walked away without as much as a by-your-leave and without turning back. Loki stood up. He knew what the warlock meant. He had been trying to come up with one plan after another after his chat with Mimir. To go and find the Wichtkonig in dreams meant he had to be careful, more so than usual. It was far more his realm than Loki’s after all. A higher risk was involved. Perhaps he should try to draw him out to a different place—the man wasn’t stupid enough to go where Loki was going to have the advantage, of course, but anywhere neutral would be better than entering his domain. It was…

“Dammit,” Loki cursed softly.

Helblindi was right. He _was_ stalling, and he hadn’t realised it.

As he walked away and started to make plans for tonight, he vaguely remembered that when he’d fallen asleep just now, he had dreamt as well. It wasn’t a random dream either—it seemed to be a continuation of the dreamworlds he’d visited when he was consciously or unconsciously looking for Darcy. He paused. It was not an ordinary dream, was it?

_Did I just dreamwalk again?_

He didn’t even realise he’d dreamwalked—he wasn’t even aware that he was dreaming in the dream! He knew he’d followed the implicit rules of her dreamworld, his concerns and worries morphed into forms that would fit its psychic landscape. It was why he was staring down at pipeworks, for one, even if the valley he had been standing in the dream seemed to be the same one he was standing in right now. Since he wasn’t lucid dreaming just then, his memories of the dream were patchy and couldn’t be recovered immediately. He knew they talked for a while, and he belatedly wondered what they had been talking about.

Loki pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. Why in the Nine Realms had he brought her _here_ , of all places? His waking-self thought the idea was mildly suicidal. He hadn’t inadvertently told her about anything important, had he?

(He had the vaguest feeling that he was going to regret it).

Also, what was she saying? They had a fight about an upcoming conflict because she insisted that she wouldn’t stand aside…ah, he still remembered more than he thought. She was warning him, he knew. It was there in her expression and stiff lines of her shoulders. But her words…

(It had been at the end of the dream. He was starting to wake up, perhaps, but he couldn’t recall her words clearly).

Loki shook his head. Perhaps Helblindi was right. If he was sleeping properly, he wouldn’t be falling asleep all over the place and unconsciously dreamwalking.

‘-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dreams, as you might know, have their own worlds that the dreamer just steps into without a second thought. Dreams are also a reflection of reality...only after it's strained through the funhouse mirror of someone's psyche. Ain't that fun to figure out?
> 
> On a different note, my updates are going to come pretty close together for this cluster of chapters because...well, they're one pretty interconnected arc. I'd hate to have my readers start forgetting too many details between one chapter or another, so next update should be next week (barring any great catastrophes). 
> 
>  
> 
> Glossary, Schmossary:
> 
> **_CERN_ :** (physics) In English, it is the European Organization for Nuclear Research. It is a European research organization that operates the largest particle physics laboratory in the world. The name came from Conseil Européen pour la Recherche Nucléaire, though even that has technically been changed to reflect some administrative shifts (it uses ‘European Organization’ in its name now instead of ‘European Council’.
> 
> **_The Wizard of Menlo Park_ :** This is actually a nickname of Thomas Alva Edison, based on the location of his main lab.
> 
> **_The Wizard of Wardenclyffe Tower_ :** This is not an actual nickname of Nikola Tesla, but the Wardenclyffe Tower was one of his biggest projects, and if it was ever finished, it would've been a distinct landmark too. In the real world, that never happens (unfortunately). In a different place, in a different time...well, one can dream.


	38. XXXVIII. The Lost Sister (Ghosted)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Darcy’s chat with Bragi on Tyr and Tyr’s son. Thornton Lewis had accidentally looked into the rabbit hole and saw the upside-down world. He is trying to figure out what the hell is going on. Tony has an unexpected visitor._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we'll touch base with Darcy for one last time, and then we're off to follow Sarah and her friends for two chapters. Why? Because the arcs are all set on a collision course. Whoo.

### XXXVIII. The Lost Sister (Ghosted)

As night wore on during the feast, Darcy had time to think to herself between all the introductions that Bragi was helping her make. Vethrfölnir had returned to the side of his liege lord, the Lawgiver. Darcy also took the opportunity to observe the High King of the Elves from her vantage point.

“Hmm, I didn’t know that Tyr is rather popular too,” Darcy commented.

“He _is_ a high king, Darcy. Many people would be interested to talk to him.” Bragi answered.

“Well, sure. Odin and Frey are also intimidating, but they’re not as off-putting as he is, y’know? How do you say it...” she paused. “He’s just…”

_Inhuman_.

Darcy stopped herself from uttering something that might sound like an insult. Yet she couldn’t find any other word for it. Oh, Odin was pretty scary with his eyepatch over one eye and in his kingly armour, but she can consider him like a kick-ass general and she’s set. If there’s an army that needed obliterating, she wouldn’t think twice about reporting to him. He just looks supremely competent that way. Frey was less martial than Odin, but his charisma wasn’t any less. She could see the ease in which he held the attention of more than ten people at once, somehow keeping track of everyone’s words and conversations. He looked as unapproachable as any Hollywood star (or a president), but if push comes to shove and she had to talk with him, she could too.

Tyr, however, radiated something else. She saw that conversations with him tended to be quite short. The people involved usually ended up turning to either Veth or a redheaded elf she didn’t know. Then, they’d ended up redirected to other wise-looking people that she suspected to be Tyr’s cabinet. All of them looked a lot more… _people-like_ , than Tyr. Neither Veth nor the redhead stopped anyone from talking to Tyr—they were really just there to guide people. Yet once they’ve talked a few sentences with him, they didn’t try to do it again.

They never did.

People just lose the nerve to talk to him for long. Around him and his two aides was a clear space some nine feet across. She suspected that meeting his gaze was like staring into a bottomless abyss. Or a crack in reality in human form.

“He’s a little overwhelming, isn’t he?” Bragi finally said after seeing that Darcy was too stupefied going to say anything.

She nodded. “…yeah. Let’s stick with ‘overwhelming’. Overwhelming is good.”

“He keeps his distance from most people as Lawgiver and Lord of Justice.” Bragi said.

“I’m…pretty sure if it was a random someone who’s the lord of justice, they wouldn’t manage being a tenth as uncanny as he is.” Darcy said. “Um, no offence meant.”

Bragi smiled a little. “And none taken. You might find it amusing to know that people are still glad that he represented Alfheim this time. Those seeking his conversations are still more than double the number who sought for conversations with the usual head of Alfheim’s contingent.”

“He’s not the usual representative of Alfheim?” Darcy asked.

What she managed to stop herself from blurting out was, _there’s someone creepier than him??_

“No. For every two out of three Allthings, he usually has more important things to watch over and he sends his son in his stead.” Bragi answered.

“His son must be pretty creepy,” Darcy blurted out.

At Bragi’s surprised look she took a deep sigh and decided to put down her mug of mead before she said any other stupid stuff. She rubbed her eyes. “Oh God, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, should I?”

Bragi chuckled. “Not to most people, I suppose, but it is not as if they would disagree with you in their hearts. Yet unlike Tyr’s natural charisma, his son’s…unusual aura is a side effect of the task and responsibility he had taken into his own. He bears his position with the grave disposition it required and the pressure it exerted to his surroundings is a testament to how well he had embodied it.”

_No offence to Tyr or his son, that sounds like a sucky job. It’s like smelling of meth all the time because you run a meth lab. Or walking around with people running away from you because you’re a waste collector who can’t even change clothes to give people a different impression_. She thought she knew what happened too, considering the current unexpected tension between the Aesir and Vanir.

“The job becomes him and he becomes the job, eh?”

“Unfortunately, yes, it’s one of those difficult callings one can never leave. His sense of responsibility is exactly like his father’s, though, and he will not leave it.”

Darcy couldn’t help but wonder why Bragi sounded exceedingly careful in his description. _Alright_ , she thought. _You’ve made me curious enough._ _I’ll bite_.

“Who is he, and what does he do anyway?”

Bragi’s smile had a touch of mystery within. “Why, he is the _Erlkönig_ of course.”

Darcy thought she could feel a passing chill even when the wind wasn’t blowing around them, and for some reason her mind came up with a pale figure on an even paler horse. Perhaps it was just something she’d seen on a tapestry earlier. The taller trees in the garden cast shadows from the lanterns hung on them, the dark lines stretched long over the balcony and on the floor. She thought she saw the profile of a man with stag horns on his head. She thought she heard the baying of hounds far, far away. Darcy unconsciously took a step back.

_No, that can’t be it. That must be my imagination. It must be_.

To her surprise, Bragi had called one of the wait staff standing unobtrusively to the side. He gave a warm mug to Darcy.

“Drink this. It’s ginger ale. It would make you feel warmer and better.” He did not proffer any other explanation, but she was thankful enough. Another look at the shadows of trees only resulted in branches and more branches. Darcy couldn’t help but let out a thin laughter of relief.

“I think I’m imagining things.” She said.

Bragi shook his head. “No, you’re not.”

She heard that wrong. She must have heard that wrong, right? _Right?_

“What?”

“No one had become a land-bound, a spirit-bound in at least a thousand years, and possibly even longer than that. Do you remember when I said something to that tune?” Bragi quietly asked. She could only nod in return. He was still smiling but this time it was an expression of inestimable sadness.

“Once there were elders among the elves that were exceedingly learned and clever. They have had Justice as their High King then, and they are resolute to maintain the greatness of Alfheim against the younger realms.” Bragi began. “They thought that if one of them could become the Death That Stalks Abroad, they could convince him not to choose among them, or to miss them for a few more years. Thus, they approached their crown prince. The prince is wise enough for his centuries to know the responsibility he will take on, and yet he is still young enough to miss the father he’d had.”

Bragi shook his head. “Is it any wonder that he agreed?”

“Missed his father?” Darcy thought with surprise. She glanced back into the hall. No matter how scary Tyr was, he was still pretty _there_. He was a lot more _there_ than a good chunk of the other elves.

“His father that had not also been the Eagle and Justice Eternal.” Bragi answered.

The answer rolled in Darcy’s mind, raising several possibilities as it went, raising her heartache for Tyr’s son.

“You…don’t stay as yourself after a land-binding?” Darcy asked.

“When a person takes on another being into themselves, is it any wonder when the personalities start to absorb each other? When two become one, would it still be the same as either of its old halves?”

The shadows of the branches seemed to stand in stark relief to Darcy.

“It is better than death, true, but it is not without its costs.”

“And what happened to the elders?” Darcy asked.

“What happens to us all, Darcy, even near-immortals and beings of considerable age. No matter how far they went, Death That Stalks Abroad will find them. No matter your pleas and bribes, Death will not be moved. Thus, in this way, they were all taken.”

Some people were clacking wooden mugs the surface at the table closest to the doors to the balcony in a drinking game. Right at that moment, they sound eerily close to the canter of horse hooves.

Darcy took a deep breath and drank a bit more from her ginger ale.

“It will pass,” Bragi said casually. Darcy froze.

“I’m sorry?”

“The chill. It’s always worse the first time around,” he answered. “That’s why most people would rather not mention the Erlkönig at all. They just say ‘Tyr’s son’ most of the time. Or the Stag.”

Darcy almost spat out her ginger ale.

“You could’ve told me that before!”

He grinned, and Darcy thought that he’d be a perfectly impish Santa Claus. “But you’d miss out the experience of using a Name that goes beyond the current world. Besides, it’s rather unbelievable unless you experience it first-hand, isn’t it?”

Well, she really can’t argue with _that_. Doesn’t mean she’d stop pouting, though.

‘-

Days before Darcy was assigned her surprise post the as de facto ambassador to Asgard and the Nine Realms, her brother had a different problem gnawing at his peace of mind.

Darcy wasn’t online.

That in itself wasn’t strange, he reminded himself. His sister had a surprisingly busy life, for someone who did not have a hard science degree and was a mere assistant to a physicist superstar. Both he and his sister always dropped in a line or several every once in a while, though. It was mainly to show that they were alive and fine while updating each other on what’s going on in each other’s life.

Thornton Lewis’ attention strayed back to the chat icon next to his sister’s username. Still offline.

He closed the book in his lap with a sigh, running a hand through brown hair the same shade as his sister’s. It was a tale of the slow crumbling of the vaunted Prussian army, and how even Bismarck was shrewd enough to see the signs then. He’d been waiting for the book to come out for weeks, and yet it couldn’t hold his attention right now. He set the book aside.

_It’s been two weeks_ , he thought.

Alright, they’d once spent a month without chatting with each other, and yet that month was marked by messages of ‘ _not dead, lol_ ’, ‘ _still not dead yet_ ’ and _‘mid-terms is in two more weeks_ ’. There were also more familiar ones to the tone of ‘ _18 th – 19th century European History is killing meeee, help! Here’s my syllabus. This quiz result also show how much I suck_’, along with the inevitable ‘ _Did you have an actual girlfriend this time?_ ’

Heck, he’d heard back from _Sarah_ a week ago, no matter how brief or how bad her internet connection was in Central Asia. He’d done his best to discourage her from trying to go to Gulmira, but neither his actual sister nor his honorary one was any less stubborn than him. He had no idea why he even tried, but eh, points for effort. At least she’d listen to what he said she’d need to bring.

He turned his chair and opened another tab on his browser. Her Facebook page hadn’t been updated for even longer. The last one was… _wait, that was five months ago_?

It stunned him.

It was almost half a lifetime away in social media terms. After all, Darcy had a habit of taking pictures of everything and uploading them to her accounts. Even when she was more privacy-conscious and didn’t publicly post pics with geographic markers, there’d still be the public pictures of food, or pictures of her and Jane in the lab. There’d be the occasional latte art too, or her nail art, or random crochet projects if she wasn’t too busy.

Just for comparison, he opened up Sarah’s page. Photographs of sunrise over the desert. Long exposure shots of a crystal-clear sky full of stars. A coffee shop full of friends. Last updated a month ago.

And this was from a place where Sarah couldn’t stop griping about how much more expensive the internet connection was.

_What was Darcy up to?_

Her last message didn’t exactly put him at ease. He opened up the page of Stark Industries once more out of habit, trying to convince himself that his sister was _fine_. That she was living the fast life now, rubbing elbows with what amounted to physics superstars. He remembered with some pride that her boss’s lab did have her own page, and it was placed on the same general area as Tony Stark and Bruce Banner’s work. That was something, right? He navigated himself around the site.

_Stark Industries - > Stark Industries R&D -> Science Labs -> Personal Labs_

_Tony Stark – Bruce Banner – Jane Foster_

One last click and he was there. Head of Lab, right, staff—he snorted. The staff had been non-existent and always changing, as far as he knew. What he saw this time was a proper list. _Huh, they have a full complement of staff now?_ He took a closer look.

An uncomfortable feeling grew at the pit of his stomach and settled heavily.

Darcy wasn’t there.

“Maybe it’s an error,” he muttered to no one in particular. Maybe he could refresh the page? Yes, he could do that. Maybe he’d been reading up late for too long again and his eyesight was slipping.

But no, his sister’s name did not suddenly appear.

His stomach twisted. He picked up his phone, and tried calling Darcy. He didn’t even get a dial tone. The phone was dead. It was ridiculous. She would’ve forgotten her wallet or her bag first before she’d forgotten to charge or carry her phone.

Thornton didn’t care much to notice anything other than that it was still daylight before he started searching for the New York Stark Industries’ phone number. He barely noticed the annoying voice mail he had to navigate for a while before he could talk with an actual person. By this time, he was off his chair and far more occupied pacing back and forth in his bedroom.

“This is Thornton Lewis and I’m trying to contact my sister. She’s a staff in the New York office, I know, it’s just that her phone seems to be dead right now and I’ve never really remembered her office phone number. We have a bit of a family emergency right now and I’m afraid I can’t really wait a few hours…”

Well, it _was_ an emergency in his mind. He needed to know that his sister was fine _right now_. He hadn’t survived his two tours in Afghanistan by ignoring his instinct and he wasn’t going to start now.

“Last I know, she’s the assistant to Dr. Jane Foster. Yes, _that_ Jane Foster. They go way back, you see; she entered Stark Industries at the same time as Dr. Foster did, together. It’s Darcy, Darcy Lewis; Delta Alpha Romeo Charlie Yankee. Yes, that’s right.”

“…”

“Thank you. I’ll wait.”

The bedroom was starting to feel cramped so he walked out into the common areas of his apartment. He’d walked all the way to the door, to the bathroom door, to the kitchen door and back to the bedroom twice before the operator got back to him.

He stopped mid-step as the muscles in his body tensed.

_I’m sorry Mr. Lewis, but perhaps there’s been a mistake? We can find no one of that description in Dr. Foster’s lab._

“Well, look it up the employee directory, then. She might’ve moved divisions.”

Many more excruciating moments passed.

_We have Darcy Lou and Doreen Louis…_

He didn’t hear the rest of the words, all the other people whose names might be similar enough to Darcy but still not her either. The numbness spreading inside him left him faltering to find any answer, any words. He automatically thanked her for her help and closed the phone without thinking, walking back to his room and his desk while almost kicking over his own waste paper trash can. His browser was still open. He started searching for Darcy Lewis on search engines on general principles.

Other Darcys of different last names and various Lewises came up from his search, but not his sister. Not even her Facebook page was on the first page. Neither did he find it on the second and third as he checked. There were no pages with her name from Stark Industries’ site, not even when he tried to view the pages from Google’s cached version (which functioned as a limited form of time machine for web pages, as one gets to see the page as it had been some time ago, not as it is right now). He decided to check something else before letting himself feel the brewing panic; he copied the address for Darcy’s profile and logged out of Facebook. Then, he pasted the address.

_This profile is restricted and not active_ , it said. Or something similar, he wouldn’t know for sure, his attention span was shot to hell now.

Other people might’ve thought it was a mistake, that it wasn’t right. That if he found more accurate keywords to use, he’d be able to find her.

Unfortunately, being someone who’d done intelligence work, he already had a vague idea of what happened.

Darcy had been _ghosted_.

‘-

Several hours later, a belated meal and bath included, the picture that emerged still hadn’t gotten much better. He’d tried all sorts of keywords on many search engines looking for Darcy Lewis. He started getting creative and remembering her high school and graduation year. No dice. His conclusion that she’d been ghosted held. He was trying to remember even more desperate digital tracks, trying to flag them down. Did his sister ever have a MySpace account? Livejournal? Didn’t she have a blog when she was still in New Mexico with Dr. Foster?

_What on earth are you involved with, Slugger?_

Thornton thought he could relax knowing that his sister didn’t really involve herself in anything dangerous. Last he checked, Jane Foster wasn’t a nuclear physicist, and they were certainly not in weapons development. Now he blamed himself for not checking further. If she was working on a project he wasn’t cleared for, would he know?

No, he wouldn’t have.

Hadn’t she given enough clues with her cryptic warnings? She _knew_ he didn’t have clearance for what weird stuff about Denver that she knew, or else she would’ve told him everything. Anyone close to Darcy would have agreed that she was the last thing from being secretive. Heck, he’d heard her complain about irregular periods _to him_ more than once. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

_She’s out there somewhere. Don’t panic Thornton, Darcy needs you to be calm for this_.

After all, nobody would go through extreme lengths for someone who was already dead. He was quite sure she’s not involved in anything criminal—she wasn’t that stupid and she wouldn’t enjoy a life on the run. Yet he knew more than most that there are parts of the government you don’t want to cross, not even by accident. He’d have to ensure that he left no tracks on his computer now.

He sighed. _Take it one step at a time_.

He’ll need to try all his contacts, beginning with the most obvious one. How ironic was it that Darcy was the one who got him a secure and encrypted email address, and now he’d be using it to find her?

Thornton sat down and wrote the first email (of many) that he would send that day.

_Spike,_

_I think you need to get back to the States, and get in touch ASAP. We need to plan._

_…_

It had always been a joke between the three of them that Sarah was another sister of his, considering how often she and Darcy hung out together in their undergraduate days and the similarities between them. Now, he couldn’t be gladder for it, because he knew Sarah would be no less feverish in her search for Darcy as he would. It also made him felt a lot less alone right now.

He just hoped she wouldn’t do anything stupid.

‘-

Halfway around the world, a rugged laptop customised for a dustier and rougher terrain beeped as an email came in.

_From: historybuff@mailbox.org_

_To: qspade@mailbox.org_

_Spike,_

_I think you need to get back to the States, and get in touch ASAP. We need to plan._

_Slugger’s been Ghosted._

_This is not a drill. I’ve spent a whole day trying to find any sort of remaining proof of existence online and I’m getting blanks everywhere. I suppose that’s the point of being ghosted, isn’t it? You’re alive, but the system does not see you._

_You’re an Unperson now._

_Yeah, I’m hoping I’m wrong too. Maybe there were never any pics of you guys in different debate competitions. Maybe I’ve been hallucinating picking you up from the airport that one time I also happened to be in SF for that occasion and that we didn’t take pictures. Ha! As if. You don’t have to tell me that. Shit, what project had she been working on? It’s as if she’s been working on the next-gen hydrogen bomb and had taken an unexpected holiday to North Korea! I didn’t even know if they’ve made improvements to anything the Palantir offered to start modifying data on a massive scale. I can’t stop thinking about the possibilities. Most of them don’t look good._

_Still, don’t do anything stupid. I’d rather not lose a second sister, y’know? Tobes would also be sad._

-  _T_

‘-

It was another regular day.

Well, it was regular for _him_. You know, the sort of regular one where there’s yet _another_ idiot trying to invade earth and the Avengers and SHIELD are in a state of emergency? Yeah, that one. Tony didn’t really pay attention to many things beside that. He’d just woken up after Maria kicked him out of the Command Room after he’d been there for 36 hour straight without sleep and forced him to take a break. He would’ve been _fine_. Come on, he’d been on code jams that were longer, mostly by drinking a lot of water and downing plenty of vitamin Cs.

Then Maria had to threaten to call Pepper and he knew when to cut his losses and pull a strategic withdrawal. He was dead to the world the moment his head hit the pillow.

Now, with an uncombed bedhead that didn’t improve after his express shower, the random Grateful Dead t-shirt he snagged out of the closet and the closest trousers he could get his hands on, he looked more like a drifter than the founder of Stark Industries.

He really couldn’t care less about how he looked, what with him being pulled off from the front lines, thanks to that bone scaffold that was being grown and implanted around his arc reactor. It’s not as if he was going anywhere else.

(And no, he was _not_ sulking. He was being realistic. There).

(He _might_ be a tad disappointed to wake up late and miss seeing Pepper).

This was why when he entered his lab and saw the young woman over at the table, his only response was _huh_. It certainly didn’t make him change his directions any – he walked straight over to her.

(Some part of him was still trying to make up the quota of attractive people he’d seen this morning as a pick-me-up—not seeing Pepper meant he had to work a lot harder than usual to fulfil that number).

Her dark hair was tied in a low ponytail. With faded jeans and cardigans, she could’ve been any of the tens of grad students and post-grad people he had in the tower. When she turned to him, her eyes struck him with their vividness. He was reminded of the National Geographic photograph of the Afghan Girl. _What was her name again? Sharbat? Sharbat Gula? Something like that._

“Hi? And who are you?” Tony asked.

She smiled. With, she went from girl-next-door pretty into breath-taking. There was natural playfulness curved into that smile, into the open lines of her body language.

“Hi. Tony, is it? I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Really?” Tony perked up.

Well, if the worst thing he did today was let down the expectations of a beautiful woman (unless she and Pepper was open for a threesome), the day could only look up from there.

“Yes. My name is Sarah.  
You killed my sister.  
Prepare to die.”

She said all this cheerfully, but the glint in her eyes made Tony took an abrupt step back with her last phrase. There was a colder, diamond-hard self underneath.

“Whoa! Hold it right there, lady. I’m pretty sure I haven’t killed anyone lately, especially not anyone’s sister.”

Was she crazy? Damn, all the hottest ones usually turn out that way. Could he alert anyone without—

“Please take a step forward from the desk Mr. Stark,” came a bored tone. He turned to the side and saw a man with an unbuttoned long coat and a scarf covering the lower half of his face. From his slouch, Tony would’ve guessed he was at most a college kid. Tony was more concerned of whatever it was the kid had in his coat—it was in the way he seemed to curl forward, to obscure his front from sight a little further.

“Not that I have anything against you, but the emergency button’s down there—I’ve checked. Anyway, let’s keep this conversation civil and it’ll stay that way.”

“She just said she wanted to kill me!” Tony complained.

“Sarah, I thought you said we’re not here to kill anyone?” Coat-and-scarf turned to Sarah.

The brunette was still smiling at Tony, still her pretty and charming self and he had _no idea_ what she kept in the palm of her right hand either. “Well, not _immediately_ , anyway. There are still things we need to find out, right? I promise that we’ll have _so_ much fun, Tony.”

Tony’s eyes strayed to the visitor card pinned to her chest.

It did say Sarah. Sarah _Lewis_.

She wagged a finger at Tony when she saw what he was looking at. “A ha! No, no sneaking, Tony. You only need to ask and I would’ve told you anyway.”

“I’m pretty sure Darcy doesn’t have a sister.” Tony said.

She shrugged lightly. “It doesn’t mean I’ll trust you with my full name.”

This wasn’t looking good, and as much as he wanted to save himself, none of them had even flashed anything that looked like a weapon. Which makes them a lot safer…or a lot more prepared, considering Sarah’s unnerving calm. He still had no fricking idea which one they are. Did anyone have a bomb anywhere? Maybe a suicide vest? But no, they couldn’t have brought explosives in _at all_ , what with the security in the entrance.

_How did they even get into the Tower—_

“Please, you two. Let him tell his story.” Another young woman, this one with a headscarf, interrupted. She looked a lot more concerned than Sarah. “Mr. Stark, don’t mind their words. We really did just come to talk, to find out about things.”

Tony was having a hard time believing that he hadn’t noticed yet _another_ person in the room just because he was too focused on Sarah. Still, that seemed to be what had happened. _Maybe she was sitting in the couch when I came in…_

“I’ve told you what happened to Darcy,” Sarah replied. “And there isn’t a lot of people who can do that to her—not many people have the manpower and skills.”

Now, most of her smile faded away and she stared straight at Tony.

Tony gaped. “Wait, _what?_ ”

This was a major coincidence— _not_.

“You can’t all be talking about Darcy Lewis, are you? I’m pretty sure she’s not dead; she’s fine! I saw her off.” Tony insisted.

“Oh, I know. Though it’s interesting that you _do_ know her by name,” Sarah waved it away, as if she hadn’t just threatened to kill him. She was sitting on the table with unparalleled ease. Her long legs stretched out with all the elegance of a femme fatale relaxing in the office of a private investigator. He had a feeling she was also as deadly.

“She wouldn’t have been ghosted if she was dead. That would’ve just been another ‘unexplainable accident’. It’s just that ‘you killed my sister’ is a lot more impressive than ‘you took Darcy away’. Got to keep the lines as they are.”

“ _Ghosted_? What the hell are you talking about, and what does it have to do with me?”

Coat Guy cleared his throat.

“Well, there’s also all the war you’re supporting. It doesn’t really draw a good picture of you when we take that into account,” he said, without a trace of Sarah’s lightness in his voice. “Maybe we should start from there, Sarah? With the blood he has in his hands?”

Sarah gazed at Tony, the intense green of her gaze weighing him on some unseen scale.

“What _do_ you get it out of it?” Her voice was softer now, but Tony’s frustration had piled up at this point.

“I have no _idea_ of whatever the _fuck_ it is you’re talking about!”

Sarah shook her head, mild surprise in her expression. The more annoying part than that one was her pity. “You really don’t know, do you? Do you actually _know_ what people in your organisation are up to?”

It was the headscarf girl’s turn to sigh.

“Let’s just tell everything first. No harm in that, is there?”

Sarah sighed, but she did sit up at that. To Tony’s surprise, the coat-guy and headscarf girl found themselves seats around her. The coat guy even brought him a chair. He sat down with a sense of unreality as Sarah leaned forward from the table she had appropriated.

“Alright Tony, make yourself comfortable and listen carefully, because I don’t make a habit of telling my stories twice. _Once upon a time, there was a girl who met with a like-minded soul and they swore they would change the way the world was ruled…_ ”

‘-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wait, why is Sarah here? Is it just because of Tory’s email? (Of course not, but then, what else?) What the hell do they mean about Tony’s blood-soaked hands? Well, that’s what we’re going to cover in the next two chapters, folks. This is just setting the stage. 
> 
> There's also the question of who would want to ghost Darcy in the first place. Next update is next week unless I suddenly get into an accident, or something (I'm already six chapters ahead of this one).
> 
> '-
> 
> Ghosted isn’t a real term, as far as I know. It’s just something I picked up from the cyberpunk genre. Considering how much weirdness is actually real life these days, I can’t really say that it couldn’t have happened at the present either…
> 
> Sarah’s lines should be familiar to all Princess Bride fans, as she’s certainly quoting that:
>
>> “Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya.  
>  You killed my father.  
>  Prepare to die.”
> 
> If you haven’t watched it, you should seriously consider doing so. It’s a classic for a good reason.  
>  
> 
> Glossary, Schmossary:
> 
> **_Mailbox.org_ :** is an actual provider of highly secure and private email addresses for personal use as well as businesses. Whatever they can encrypt, they will. One of the issues of encryption is when one party uses encryption and the other just decrypts their message and stores it in plaintext form. Encryption in this case is near useless. When you’re using end-to-end encryption, however, it becomes truly robust.
> 
> **_Palantir_ :** (literature, Lord of the Rings) singular, plural form is _Palantiri_ , also known as known as _the Seeing-stones_ of which there are seven in total. A Palantir is spherical stone used for the purpose of communication with another of its kind in the world of Lord of the Rings. Not only that, even a single Palantir can be used for remote-viewing.
> 
> These days we use satellite and drones for that, which also has the benefit of not being limited in number to seven.
> 
> **_Palantir_ :** (technology company), its complete name is **Palantir Technologies** , a privately held company that exists in real life that has not gone through an IPO (initial public offering) to sell it shares to the public. Seeing how successful it is already and how it doesn’t have to create annual public reports due to it being a private company than a public one. Considering that its clients include NSA, DHS and FBI, odds are, it never would go public. The scrutiny of a public company would be uncomfortable for it. In Marvel ‘Verse, I’m sure SHIELD is just another one of its clients.
> 
> As one can get from its prospectus, the company focuses on big data analysis and provides ‘data integration’. ‘discovery capabilities’, ‘information management’ and ‘secure collaboration’ across its product offerings. A document leaked to TechCrunch, US spy agencies connect their databases across different departments for the first time using Palantir. As harmless and anodyne as these descriptions sound, I’m sure you could read between the lines as to what sort of services exactly this company deals in, especially when it also offers ‘predictive analysis’.
> 
> ‘-


	39. XXXIX. Travails, Part 1 (Sarah and Amira)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Sarah’s Story. Sarah, somewhere in Central Asia with interesting company. Something is rotten in the state of Gulmira. An Investigation ensures. Sarah sends emails to her family and receives replies._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sarah’s gentleman friend with the thistledown hair is played by David Bowie in his ‘80s glam rock splendour. I'll add a longer note about it in the next chapter. He'll certainly show up in longer scenes after this.
> 
> Unrelated note: my health and immune system is kinda hitting rock bottom since a week or so ago. It's like, there isn't a week where I'm not convalescing for at least one work day. Plus side: I managed to get more chapters done due to staying at home and not doing anything else. Minus side: It's getting to the point where all I want to do is sleep the (sick) day away and don't have much energy for anything else. There's at least three more chapters other than this one that's done, so no worries on that front for now. After that is a different story.

### XXXIX. Travails, Part 1 (Sarah and Amira)

A week before Darcy had left earth for parts unknown, Sarah was still thousands of miles away from New York. The last connection she had with the outside world was her satellite phone, which she turned off for now to conserve the battery.

The rat-a-tat-tat of machine guns hadn’t stopped. At times like these, the wall behind her back felt not that much better from cardboard.

The children huddled around her and Amira, seeking body warmth like kittens around their mother. Every time she needed to soothe them in Dari, speaking sweet nothings, something clenched in Sarah’s chest. This shootout was longer than the previous ones, a lot longer. Sometimes, the silence drew out for a while and everyone breathed a sigh in relief. Yet it wouldn’t last. Soon enough there’d be an explosion, another gunshot piercing the air, and the oppressive air returned. It was a bother, but Sarah hadn’t been worried much at the beginning. It was already a part of her routine, as irregular as it was.

As explosions began to rock the ground more than once or twice, she began to be concerned.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” Sarah asked Amira in English, with the hope that the kids wouldn’t catch up to the conversation. Amira raised an eyebrow in a silent reply, ‘ _you think?_ ’

“I lost count after the first half an _hour_.” Amira finally said, when it was clear that Sarah was going to insist on a conversation. “Anyway, didn’t you notice the kids?”

“Yes, we have a lot of kids with us today.”

Sarah had to admit that it wasn’t something usual. The villagers had their own warning system of some sort—maybe it was just people who were herding goats not far from the village, maybe it was rumours in teahouses. Whatever it was, they were usually quite aware when most of conflicts was going to take place, even if not to the hour or day. Usually everyone stayed at home with their families. Usually, Sarah and Amira were more involved in teaching a class on basic health education to the women. They were asked to teach the children only occasionally, since there was an actual school in place (even if the class times could be a bit haphazard). Still…

Amira shook her head slowly, black hair slipping out of her head scarf. “You’re already suspecting something. You _know_ this is unusual.”

“Yeah,” Sarah mused. But then, many things in Gulmira was unusual. “Like, you saw the group that came actually had a banner, right? Like, what the _hell_?”

Usually most of the splinter factions and part-time paramilitary perps weren’t even organised enough to agree on a _symbol_ , much less manage to get together and make a flag out of it. The fact that the first of the belligerents that reached the village had one wasn’t good news.

Amira frowned. “Yeah, I recognised it; ‘The Men of the Mountain’. Still new.”

When another explosion set off very close to them, close enough that Sarah could feel plaster, debris and whatnot falling crumbling on them from the ceiling, she wasn’t merely afraid for the children. She was pissed off.

“Amira, we need to move.”

Amira’s eyes widened.

“ _What?_ Sarah, we _can’t_ —” the last half of her sentence couldn’t be heard as an explosion rumbled once more and everyone ducked down. They were in one of the bigger houses, one that the village had agreed could be used as a temporary class. It was also an odd house with three outgoing doors.

“They’re getting too close,” Sarah’s tone was grim. “Let’s move to the back.”

“You can’t possibly think of getting the children out—”

“Not _exactly_.” Sarah said, but did not elaborate. She stood up slowly and began gathering the children. Amira followed suit only because she trusted Sarah. It didn’t mean the scepticism in her expression disappeared. Slowly, the two of them began to shuffle children out of the room, to other rooms of the house that was just as bare and Spartan (but at least wasn’t right next to where possible firefights are at). Sarah gave a subdued greeting to the older couple who owned the house with an encouraging smile, knowing just how much more concerned they were about the children than themselves.

Once everyone was calmly sitting down again. Sarah dared herself to peek out of the window.

The back alleys were small and quiet. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know how deceptive it was. Who knows if the firefight would suddenly move there in the next minute? And could she, in good conscience, asked the children to follow her to _that_? Right in the middle?

But a simple escape wasn’t what Sarah had been thinking about. She was thinking of finding a safer ground.

“Sarah!”

Amira’s hissed cry was the last thing she heard as she continued running out to the back wing. She slipped on the burqa she had been carrying quickly and slipped out of the house out of a different door.

The alley was right across the street from the house.

She’d seen the alley last while she was (secretly) taking a night walk from last week. The crimson-washed night sky had worried her—sleep was hard and she tried to burn her restlessness away by moving. The alley was barely even one, more between the line of houses it was but a narrow gap, like one tooth missing among a full row. She stepped into its dark maw without a doubt. Dust-covered walls brushing past her shoulders more than once while the blood coloured sky glowed vividly above her, but she did not stop or turn back from its twisting path.

She was rewarded well for her persistence. The alley ended right at the outskirts of the village—since the village was on a small hill, this happened to be the cliff edge above a valley.

At the bottom of the valley was an office-and-warehouse combination, now abandoned and disused.

There was a small path down the rocks that was hard to see, and it was one she would bet that only locals knew how to traverse it properly. Almost every night over the course of the week, Sarah tried to find her way down, relying on sash-covered palms to stop herself from slipping or falling over some loose rocks. Every night that she came, she ventured farther than she was before under the same uneasy night sky, all the way until she reached the valley’s floor. Walking not far from that point, she had followed the walls securing the office complex.

Last night she had found a crack on the wall. Wide enough for a dog or goat to squeeze through and not impossible for a human.

Considering the number of paramilitary groups active in the area, and the sheer number of armed conflict they get themselves up to, Sarah found it hard to believe that all those firefights were merely over the large-ish village situated on the hill. It was strategic enough for sure, but to expend men and ammo over it for days and weeks was bordering on ridiculous. There was nothing like poppy fields nearby either (believe her, she’d checked and casually talked to the villagers while keeping her ears open for any hint of it).

She had a feeling it had something to do with this abandoned office complex.

Besides, she didn’t manage to _finally_ come here just to sit on her thumbs and do nothing. _Of course_ she was going to investigate. Even if it turned out to be just a well-fortified building with nothing much in there, she figured that at the very least, the people in the village could take cover in it.

Steeling her nerves, Sarah entered through the hole in the wall.

‘-

Sarah first saw Amira in the city of Gandhara. It was weeks after she’d first arrived and she’d started to get used to the crackling heat and dust.

Amira was going around the tables of the small café. The college student was trying to find another young woman or two who were going home in the direction that she was in, persuading and cajoling strangers with ease. Sarah’s abilities to speak either Dari or Pashto wasn’t excellent yet, but it worked quite well at listening that she figured out what was going on quickly. It was also why she was already comfortable at visiting slightly out-of-the-way digs instead of staying at the standard watering holes of international staff.

Sarah, her alcoholic drink served in deceptive white china cup, stood up out of curiosity to approach the young woman. Seeing Sarah stand up, the black-haired woman introduced herself and Sarah did the same, and then Amira asked her a similar question in quite good English, to which Sarah had to give a negative answer. Amira let out a sigh when she heard that Sarah didn’t live anywhere near her place, but Sarah wouldn’t let the other woman to restart her rounds.

“Why are you looking?” Sarah asked.

“To find someone to go home with, of course.” She replied with a furrowed brow, as if her answer was obvious.

“Yeah, but _why?_ I mean, why not just go home?”

She could see the other woman drawing a long breath at that, adjusting her head scarf while she answered.  “Because I need to get a _taxicab_.”

Sarah blinked at the non-answer.

“What?”

Amira opened her mouth for a moment before she quickly closed it again when nothing came out. There was another sharp intake of breath that Sarah was pretty familiar with. It was the sound most people here have when they have to explain things to newcomers.

“Because I don’t want to get raped. What else?” Amira replied with a flat deadpan. “You don’t know what sort of driver you’d get and it’s not as if anyone would come if you yell in the middle of the night.”

“ _What?!_ ”

“Shhhh, please calm down! There is no need to yell at all.”

“No, I mean, _that’s just_ —”

“—the way things are,” Amira finished for her, this time with a slightly annoyed look. “Look, you _do_ see that this place is still rebuilding, right? What were you expecting? Anyway, if you’re not going, I still have to find someone or stay over at my friend’s place again for the night. If it gets too late, I wouldn’t get enough sleep for tomorrow’s classes.”

“Stay at mine,” Sarah implored as concern bubbled in her chest. Amira stared at her curiously, her expression one of unconcern and without fear.

“Hmm, I have a better idea. You’re staying here for a while, right? Journalist? No? You can stay at mine. I think my parents always love to talk to people. They like to keep practising their English.”

In the end, Sarah did just that and visited Amira’s house. Her father seemed to be a mild-mannered bespectacled man with salt-and-pepper hair while his wife was matronly with a shrewd look. There was Amira’s oldest brother who had an overly-serious look on his face (“ignore him,” Amira said, to which said brother only gave her a look of much forbearance), and a younger one that reminded Sarah of her own brother. And that was how Sarah was introduced to the Ali family in the first place.

Amira, though, was just the right mix of irreverent and curious to connect with Sarah.

‘-

It was still going to take many, many months before Sarah managed to go anywhere beyond the city limits of Gandhara.

“ _Bogdammit!_ ”

Sarah cursed outside an administrative building. It wasn’t as if anyone was standing too close or listening in, anyway, she thought, as she walked to a shaded part of the main street just to stalk back and forth in thought. She herself had a scarf around her lower face, because of the dust, obviously. She ignored the passing people that sometimes gave her a look that was some variation of ‘weird foreigner’.

She ran a hand through her dark hair absentmindedly.

There had been a steady stream of refugees from the Gulmira region, even after all this time when people spoke of cease fire or negotiations being in place from all over the country. Something was wrong, and yet it was hard to get there. At first it was the issue of getting the appropriate permits, but the more experienced legal staff told her that they had that covered. When she returned with that, they then prevaricated with how it isn’t _exactly_ within their jurisdiction to handle it, and that they need to contact other ministries for that. More excuses followed, about needing higher authorisations, about how it was too dangerous, about…

Sarah was reaching the end of her tether.

 _Was it just me, or do they_ really _not want anyone in there?_

They assured her that it was not due to her being a foreign national; they also limit the number of citizens who try to go there on the basis of the lack of security in the region was a concern. It was even more worrying that none of them wanted to confirm or deny just _what the hell_ is happening there that made them all so skittish.

“If you keep frowning like that, you’re going to have wrinkles.”

Sarah started and turned around. To her left was a woman in a dove-grey burqa. She blinked in disbelief.

“ _Amira?!_ ”

“Sssh! What is it with you and _yelling_?” Amira gently pulled her aside by her arm. “Yes, it’s me. Why are you giving the Ministry of the Interior the evil eye?”

Sarah was still too stunned to register the question.

“Why are you wearing… _this_?!” She hissed. “Was it your father…?”

Amira snorted. “You _have_ seen my father, right? The IT guy who moonlights as a poet? _That_ one? Of course not. I do this from time to time so as to not lose my burqa gait, you know? My mother said that it would be a bad thing if I needed to go through the countryside when I’ve forgotten how to move in one. She has a point.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. There’s this cousin of a friend who knew a mother who was trying to leave Kabul when everything fell apart. A son-in-law was waiting just over the Pakistani border to fly them all out. She was in _chadaris_ and so were her daughters. They had bad luck—their car was stopped on the way. They didn’t pass the random police check because they ‘moved like a Kabul native’.” Amira finished.

“And?”

“They get rounded up and sent to prison for trying to leave the country. What do you think?”

Sarah was stunned into silence.

And that was that. The story fell into a black hole and stayed there. Considering the sense (or nonsense) of how people easily get into jail and rarely out of it, she was beginning that they might as well fall down into an oubliette.

It was hard to dispel the shadows the story cast, of a frightened woman and her family who just wished save their lives. And yet that window of opportunity was just…suddenly not.

Their freedom is but a mirage.

Sarah closed her eyes and shook her head, carefully filing it for quieter moments later. If she fell apart at every human tragedy she heard, she would’ve asked to be sent back months ago.

“So, there’s a way to move in it?” Sarah casually asked, distracting herself.

“Damn right there is. That’s like asking whether there’s a particular way to wear stilettos.” Amira waved her question away with careless ease. The more they talked the more Sarah noticed her body language had started to shift.

“Well, whatever it was, I think you’re losing it right now,” Sarah pointed out. Amira froze.

“Urgh, you’re right. You’re a bad influence,” she complained, to which Sarah only smiled as her friend shuffled around and changed her posture yet again, trying to follow whatever unknown standard she had in her head. “So, why are you staring at the building?”

“I wasn’t staring at the building.” Sarah muttered.

“You were trying to curse the official inside with your death glare.”

“I wasn’t—” she sighed. “Oh, alright. I might’ve. It’s just that we’ve been trying to get into Gulmira for weeks and they keep making one excuse after another.”

“Hmmm…”

“Yeah. Weird, isn’t it?”

“You gave _sweets_ , right?”

Sarah stared at her for a while, before understanding what she meant. Bribes—specifically, petty bribes. The brunette huffed. “ _No._ Anyway, I’m not dealing with the provincial administration, or something. They know that if they get that obstructive with us, they’d get a reprimand from someone higher up.”

“The joys of working for a large international organisation,” Amira replied dryly.

“Yes. Still, what’s up, anyway?”

Amira pondered on her question for a while, the tilt of her head barely visible.

“There’s probably another armed conflict taking place. Insurrectionists getting trigger happy and cocky, some warlords making a comeback, government forces more on the desperate and undermanned side, choose your pick.” Amira replied easily.

“Really? Why don’t they just _say that_ in the first place?”

Sarah saw Amira still an attempt at a shrug. “It depends. If it’s just another place in the middle of nowhere, yes, they might do that. If it’s a strategic place for some reason, I don’t think so. I mean, Gulmira’s pretty famous, right? I think I’ve heard it several times before, even if I’m not sure what the news was about. The government doesn’t want to lose face and reputation, you know? What with you being from a _large international organisation_?”

Sarah got in a lot of practise at the new Pashto curse words she’d picked up. She was sure she could hear Amira repress her laughter underneath all that covering fabric.

‘-

Amira had grown up partly in central Asia and partly in a mix of other places. Her father was one of the few who was lucky enough to be able to leave the country and find a job somewhere else, along with a few of his friends. The problem was, not all of his family had managed to leave. His guilt and sense of responsibility ended up pulling him back. It was the same with one of his friends—he brought his family back too in an attempt to bring his brothers and sisters out with him, and now the Akbari family was living but a stone’s throw away from the Ali.

Both men were desperately trying to find siblings they’d lost contact with.

“I did say that the odds weren’t good,” Amira told Sarah about it sometime later, in that dimly-lit café they often relax at. She was wearing a head scarf once more than the _chadaris_ , the burqa, and jeans under her robe-like dress.

There was still a vague idea that the left part of the place was generally all-female, the right part generally all male, and anyone with a mixed party taking the tables in the middle. Sarah had a habit of taking one of the tables in the middle, because she didn’t want the hassle of moving around when the friends she happened to be talking to were of the male persuasion. The owner didn’t care about anyone wearing or taking off their chadaris and always warned everyone ahead of time when any reactionaries might be planning on doing ‘raids’, and that was enough for Sarah.

“But can I tell him in good conscience to give up on my aunt? I don’t think so. The whole family just decided to support him quietly about it.” Amira said.

Sarah personally thought it wasn’t fair that everyone’s lives were uprooted for the sake of their father’s quest, but she was perceptive enough now to see that Amira loved her father. She might not even see it as a sacrifice on her part.

 _And whoever said that life was fair?_ Sarah thought with a sigh.

“I can’t imagine you’s fine with it,” Sarah finally said, in broken Dari.

“— _you’re fine with it_ ,” Amira automatically corrected. “Well, it’s inconvenient, but I’ll be fine. Look at me, I’m still going to the university. Sartuk did blew up at his father when he first heard about it, and he wouldn’t talk with his father for three days even when his older brother and mother tried to get him out of it. He’s stubborn like that, but nobody had realised that he had a bit of a temper either. I suppose I could understand it since he’d wanted to get to ETH Zurich.”

“Sartuk?”

“Ah, Sartuk Akbari, third child of the Akbaris. I keep forgetting you’re not familiar with them. I usually ended up tutoring him up to a few years ago. Not that I need to do much; he’s _smart_.”

That was also the first time she heard of any of the Akbari kids other than the calm and responsible Salim, the eldest brother.

When Amira had gone home, this time with two other girls going in a somewhat similar direction, another person took a seat in front of Sarah. He spoke fluent Dari when he ordered his tea, and whatever was in the cup smelled delicious.

“What’s that?” She asked.

“Tchai.”

She huffed. His answer wasn’t exactly helpful. What she wanted to know exactly _what_ sort of tea that he was getting.

“Another one would be here soon. Patience, Sarah.” He saw her surprised look. “Really, you didn’t think I’d order one for you too? How boorish are the men around you to make you think that way?”

She didn’t try to answer that question, mostly because he could always point out the flaws of any male co-worker of hers that he had met, along with a few of the female ones as well. One incident of thoughtlessness, one mistake of oversight and he’d notice it and remember it. He was bad enough already that there was no need for her to feed the flames.

“What do you know about Gulmira?” She asked.

“Why do I have to know anything about Gulmira?” He replied.

She had a lot of issues with his reply, considering that the turban slouching on top of his light mop of hair was bright green silk with gold embroidery, it reminded her more of the old kingdoms of the silk road than the sombre colours of modern-day central Asia. The same thing can be said of his decadent outer coat, blue as sapphire and embroidered with gold thread. She was pretty sure he’d done business in many places nearby several times.

Sarah narrowed her eyes at him. “I swear, if you only came here to troll me…”

They were interrupted by the arrival of her tea. She thanked her waiter and took a deep sniff; the mix of herbs was as intriguing as before.

“If I answer that question, would you still be interested in going there, or will you stay here?” He asked.

Implicit in his question was whether she would _go heedlessly into danger_ , as he’d referred to her assignments before. Implicit in his concern was whether she would think of her safety for once, which for her usually translates into administrative and boring jobs. They’d had long discussions (and arguments) about it. Being the stubborn bastards they both were, neither was prone to giving in.

She rolled her eyes. “ _obviously_.”

His answering smile was that of the Cheshire Cat.

“Then I choose the right _not_ to answer your question.”

Sarah cursed out loud even as she couldn’t fault him for not telling her. He seemed amused than not. “Ah, no complaints about how I’m not being fair?”

She lobbed a crumpled tissue at him, which he dodged with fluid ease. It did not stop her from throwing three more. He caught the last one; she had thrown them so rapidly there was no way to dodge it.

“ _Please_ , I haven’t said that in _ages_.”

“But it crossed your mind all the same,” he noted shrewdly. “Especially since I am your villain, isn’t it?”

She shook her head. “So what if you were? It doesn’t matter. It still wouldn’t be fair to you. You’re also my friend—you have a right to worry about me, even if I have a right to not follow your advice since I disagreed. What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

His light blue eyes were transfixed at her with something she’d publicly admit as surprise, and with something she’d never admit even on her death bed as longing, edging into well-restrained delight. His tone when he spoke up next was light. Too light.

“We are friends, then?”

“You’re still villainous enough, by the way.” Sarah pointed out casually—too casually. “Don’t think I didn’t notice all those dead ends you sent me on before.”

Thanks to her acting skills, her voice didn’t waver as she picked up her tea. It was interesting, but far from half as interesting as the enigma sitting in front of her. _He_ was staring at her with the intensity that rivalled Champollion’s obsession at decrypting the Rosetta Stone.

“You haven’t answered my question.”

Sarah shrugged, her non-existent smile rivalled Mona Lisa’s. “Well, why should we _not_? We certainly spend a lot of our free time with each other.”

Neither of them, she noticed, said anything close to yes or no.

‘-

Within half a year of her arrival, Sarah still held out at keeping her own place, but it wasn’t an easy decision to come by. The Ali family had welcomed her as one of their own every time they visited. Fariba, Amira’s mother, always remembered which dishes Sarah had liked and had taken to rotating her favourites on a regular basis. Fariba even seriously asked her to simply stay in their house instead of at her apartment (“You and Amira can keep each other company”). The amount of food she ate was enough to start her running again out of fear of being a ball of lard (that did not sound like a good thing for her odds of survival when she still needed to move quickly).

Amira asked Sarah to accompany her to watch the stars from the rooftops of their dwelling, the wind and the endless stretch of velvet night sky peaceable. The dry desert air had always reminded her of New Mexico, now even more so. (And that in turn reminded her of Darcy, her old roommate, too. Sarah wondered how she was doing these days).

That was when Amira came out with her crazy idea.

“Let’s go to Gulmira.”

Sarah’s eyes widened. “Are you _serious_?”

“From the way father told stories about his brother-in-law, Aunt married someone from Gulmira. There’s good odds that she’s still there. We just haven’t heard much from the region because of the government’s hands-off policy towards it.”

“You’re nuts.” Sarah blurted out. Amira waved it away as if her concern were merely pesky insects.

“Come on, _you’re_ the one who said that you wanted to go to Gulmira before I did.”

She snorted. “It’s my _job_ , I know what I’m getting, Amira. What’s your excuse?”

Amira was undeterred. “Look, maybe you can’t get the paperwork for an official delegation of sorts through, but what if it was just a small group in? Unofficially? We could be a group of health experts, prepared to provide training to the local women.”

“ _Health_ experts?”

“You’ve got a med student here,” Amira said, referring to herself. Her dark eyes shone with excitement. “Health experts are still a rarity, especially in the harder-to-reach places. You already know CPR, basic sanitation and stuff and I can just teach you more in the meantime. I say that we can get there.”

Sarah was shaking her head slowly. There was the spark in Amira’s eyes that were all too familiar to Sarah.

“Why do you have to get along with me, though? It’s not going to be _easy_.”

“Your Pashto’s good, but your spoken Dari’s not that smooth yet and you barely know anything of the other languages.” Amira rapidly pointed out. “I’m fluent in three of our languages and I can understand four. Sides, you need to know how to walk with a burqa.”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to wear one.”

“—and that’s as good as advertising that the group has a foreigner in it, eminently kidnappable. Come on, weren’t you thinking of investigating in a low-profile group?”

The more Amira spoke of it, the more tempting it sounded to Sarah. Still, she knew of one last obstacle to her friend.

“Well, I’m fine as long as _you_ break the news to your parents. Good luck with that.”

Amira dropped her head into her hands and grumbled.

‘-

Her emails to her parents were on the short side. It lacked many details except for her friendship with Amira and the interesting people in her office.

Sarah didn’t have the habit of telling her family the details of what she was up to. Her father would fret, even when there’s nothing he could do about it. Karen had the memory of an elephant and would worry for _months_. It was more of a pain for everyone involved than useful. So, she usually skimped on the details when she informed them – except for her brother. The brat had the opposite problem; he thought she was his hero who could do anything and was invincible.

It was cute when he was little, but it was stubbornly not easing up even in middle school.

On the plus side, she could tell him almost everything and he wouldn’t panic. The email that she composed to him was longer. There were a surprising number of things she could hash out with him; he was oddly mature for his age, when his brattiness wasn’t taking over.

Then, there’s always Tory and Darcy.

Tory had always been the overly-protective older brother she never had, but compared to her parents he was thankfully of a practical bent. The first thing he did when he heard of the assault rates in campus was to actually fly down and teach them self-defence basics until he was satisfied. Then, he accompanied them to find actual classes that would suit their taste as well as his standards. That was just how he always rolled, Darcy had said. From the moment that she visited Darcy’s home, he had always treated her as another sister.

Darcy, on the other hand…she could tell Darcy _everything_.

 _Well, almost everything_. Even then it was a losing effort on her part, because Darcy had never really considered any of Sarah’s male friends seriously, and yet she had never given up trying to ask about “that blond with the rockstar hair that you talk to from time-to-time.” Even when Sarah shut her down with ‘a friend’ and left it at that, the impish grin on Darcy’s face wouldn’t disappear as she nodded with that all-knowing look.

 _Oh, a_ friend _? Sure. Whatever you say, Sarah. Whatever makes you sleep easier at night_.

_Darcy!_

_What? Hey, I didn’t say anything you didn’t. Like, a ‘frieeeend’, right? A good ‘frieeeend’_.

Sarah snorted. Never argue with Darcy when you’re on uncertain ground. She was a lot more perceptive than she looks. Then again, it also meant that she wouldn’t pull her punches when she tells you that you’re full of crap.

Which meant her perspective was exactly what Sarah needed right now. She started another email.

‘-

Not long after her conversation with Amira, she had an unexpected visitor at her office.

“Apparently, it’s all your fault.”

The sentence was delivered with barely any particular stress in inflection. Sarah looked up from the documents she was trying to get through. The young man in front of her could be anything from a teenager to a young merchant making a living in the city. His eyes were mercurial in its intelligence, too old and canny on his youthful face. The mess of curls on his head and his clothing had as much dust as anyone who’d been living on and off the streets for a while.

Sarah frowned. “What?”

He mistook her confusion for incomprehension and he repeated the statement in well-articulated English. His distinctly London accent sounded familiar. He pulled the chair in front of her desk and sat on it. He moved with a hardened mix of swagger and belligerence, and yet she something in it reminded her of her younger brother—she had a feeling that he was younger than he appeared.

From the effort he put in to hold an impacable face, she suspected that a scowl felt more natural for him.

“Amira was talking to my sister about her crazy idea last night and my sister was begging her not to go.” He casually started. “For once I don’t think my sister’s overreacting. Gulmira’s not really a walk in the park, is it? Well, unless you’re expecting IEDs and shootouts in your walks.”

If this was anywhere else, she might’ve thought he was playing it cool. This being Gandhara, the realistic answer was that he might just be that jaded and definitely in need of therapy. _But then, who doesn’t, these days?_

Sarah sighed. “I _know_ that. God knows that Amira would know that better than I do. Also, don’t make me ask this again, but _who_ are _you_?”

“The main consideration is that she can’t just leave after all is said and done,” he continued, staring straight at her. “ _You_ can; you can always resign and go back home to America. Amira wouldn’t abandon her family even if none of them thinks it’s a bad idea—if she did this, not-leaving would be a Bad Idea. She’d stand out even more.”

Sarah heard a sharp intake of breath.

“She could get targeted.”

He paused, looking down for once. Perhaps the images that the words summoned was something he did _not_ really want to think about but couldn’t avoid. He glanced up at her once more.

“Her idea as it is wouldn’t get a pass at all. I can help with that if I step in, but before I do that I need to know one thing. _Can you promise you’d do everything you can to get her out if things get bad_?”

His voice was urgent and forceful. Ignoring it was almost impossible and she was mildly impressed by the force of his personality.

Sarah leaned forward, right across her desk and straight into his personal space. She certainly wasn’t here without knowing what was waiting for her, neither would she be intimidated. To his credit, he didn’t even flinch or shift back.

“You don’t need to ask me to do that. I’d always do it for Amira—what kind of friend would I be if I don’t? Now _kid_ , give me your name or I’ll kick you out of here.”

From the way he immediately seethed, it seemed she hit a sore point of his there and she had to push back the urge to grin. To her surprise, he didn’t complain at all, only standing up immediately even as he swallowed whatever words he had just then.

“I’m Sartuk. Sartuk Akbari. I’ll hold you to that promise.”

No wonder his accent sounded familiar—it was very close to Amira’s English accent, and not even her parents had quite the same accent.

“And don’t step in to help Amira for me. Whether she’s going or not, it would be up to Amira, don’t you think?” Sarah asked back.

There it was; for a second, the first and only hint of a smile rose on his face. It disappeared as soon as it appeared replaced by something close to disbelief when his gaze met hers.

“Of course it’s not for _you_. Why do you think I even bothered to come here?”

With a business-like nod, he left, his expression drifting back to the frown it seemed to be more comfortable in.

When it was her time to go home, Sarah had the thought of asking security how he even got in. Yet apparently, there was no one like her description that had walked in through the doors they zealously guarded for any and all officials passing. Her interest was slightly piqued. Amira’s neighbour, it seemed, wasn’t just a middle child with an attitude.

‘-

Tory’s email was filled with the usual ‘why on earth do you even _want_ to go there?’ After that came his efforts to dissuade her with dismal statistics before he settled down and gave her practical advice. One of those was _‘don’t forget to bring the satellite phone_ ’, which was actually his last Christmas present to her (and Darcy’s, after he egged Darcy to split it with him). Another advice on the more paranoid end was to keep a GPS tracking chip in her shoes. At the very least, if she was in danger, she could activate it and they can use the signal to find her.

As crazy as it sounds, it wasn’t that bad to have as a backup. At least he wasn’t even considering to ask her to get an _implanted_ GPS chip. That was just too weird.

Darcy’s email started with the morbid joke of ‘have you updated your will?’ It did earn a laugh out of her before she read on. _I don’t want to sound like Tory, but seriously, have you considered getting armed?_ Sarah shook her head. Since she wasn’t actually part of the UN security or any other official armed forces, it wasn’t really a good idea. Anyway, she wasn’t trying to fight anyone and going back will always be an option.

The last parts of her email were curious, though.

_Have you seen an aurora where you are?_

She blinked. Darcy knew she wasn’t anywhere around the poles, right? But why the question, then? For something so harmless it was lodged in her mind for days as she couldn’t make any sense out of it.

Sarah would not see an aurora until she was already out of Gandhara. She would not understand the omen it had been until much, much later.

‘-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary, Schmossary:
> 
> **_Dari_ :** (language, linguistics), or _Dari Persian_ , a variation of the Persian language in use in Afghanistan, the name is the one officially used by the Afghan government (I keep remembering it as _Farsi_ in my head, which is its old name, for one). It’s the most widely-spoken language in Afghanistan and the native language of around a quarter to a half of the population. It’s one of two official languages of Afghanistan, the other one being _Pashto_. Part of the  Western Iranian language group, it is also known as Afghan Persian in many Western sources.
> 
> Iranian and Afghan Persian are mutually intelligible languages (speakers of either language can actually understand the other, even if they think it sounds weird/unusual to them). They both evolved from Middle Persian through Early New Persian. (Thank goodness for Wikipedia, my knowledge of the language is a lot more scatterbrained than this if I couldn’t check the wiki page, for one).
> 
>  ** _ETH Zürich_ :** ( _Eidgenössische Technische Hochschule Zürich_ ), The Swiss Federal Institute of Technology in Zurich, a university that specialises in engineering, science, technology, mathematics and management. Consistently on the top 10 world university rankings, it’s usually just a tad behind the likes of Oxford, MIT, Stanford, Caltech, Cambridge and others. On different years, the universities exchange rankings as some go up and others go down – this happens often enough that I don’t really keep track on who’s where, just who’s on the top 10, etc.
> 
>  ** _Gandhara_ :** a fictional city in Central Asia that I made up to suit my purposes, its characteristics are certainly a blend of several real-life places. Name taken from an ancient kingdom situated in roughly the same area I was using in the story.
> 
> **_Oubliette_ :** (architecture) A dungeon, whose only entrance is through the top. From 19th century French, from _oublier_ , to forget. A place to put people you want to ‘forget’ about, I suppose. ( _Oublier_ , in its turn, comes from Old French _oblider_ , which is from Vulgar Latin _oblītāre_. It clearly has the same stem as the word oblivion).
> 
>  ** _Pashto_ :** (language, linguistics), the second most common language spoken in Afghanistan and one of its official language (the other one is _Dari_ ). It is also the second-largest regional language of Pakistan; some regions that are contiguous with Afghanistan actually speak 100% Pashto. It is a language from the Eastern Iranian language group.
> 
>  ** _Rosetta Stone_ :** (Egyptology), a famous gigantic stone slab, on which is inscribed a decree in the name of King Ptolemy V. What makes the stone special is that the inscription is written in three languages – _Ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs_ at the top, _Demotic script_ in the middle and _Ancient Greek_ at the bottom. This multi-lingual document paved the way for a modern translation of the hieroglyphs. The Frenchmen  Jean-François Champollion was the first person to create a transliteration of the hieroglyphic portion of the stone.
> 
> ‘-


	40. XL. Travails, Part 2 (Into Gulmira)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Sarah, somewhere in Central Asia with Amira and Sartuk. She finds the Root of Gulmira’s Rot. A Past Sarah chats with a familiar stranger in a coffee shop. An old tale unpauses._

### XL. Travails, Part 2 (Into Gulmira)

Over the course of several days, Amira relentlessly messaged Sarah through her Facebook account on the details and logistic of the trip, throwing up anything and everything she’d heard of Gulmira. Even Sarah had to admire her thoroughness. Sarah had the easier job of just copying the list Tory had given her and forwarded that as her contribution. After so many details had been hashed out and taken care of, she sent a message on how she would be waiting in their usual café as soon as Sarah was off from work.

True enough, Amira waved at her the moment she stepped in. Sarah could see the excitement and nervousness blending into one in the rapid movements of her tapping fingers.

“So, we can _definitely_ go.”

Amira’s smile was a tad too wide. Sarah’s attention, however, was on the person next to her.

“Who invited you, kid?” Sarah asked.

“I’m _not_ a kid,” he vehemently insisted with a growl. Sarah did her best to keep her expression bland and her smirk non-existent, but it was just so _easy_ pulling his leg. “I’m going with you.”

“Ah of course not. But what about school?” She asked.

It was Sartuk’s turn to look smug. “What school? I don’t need to go to any school until I get to a uni.”

“ _Really_?”

Amira sighed. “Yeah, _really_. He was about to take the _Abitur_ within half a year or so when our fathers just upped and left.”

“I’ve taken my A-levels instead,” Sartuk stated with a shrug. “A lot easier to get internationally than the _Abitur_.”

She blinked. Wasn’t A-levels a bit more like passing AP classes than just a high school diploma? It couldn’t have been that easy. The other two didn’t seem to be done with their bickering, though.

“Only after you’re done arguing your father down,” Amira stated.  “Like just any other teenager.”

“I was only pointing out all the holes in his arguments. He _is_ being reckless and only doing what _he_ wants.” He stuck to his points like a lawyer leech. She had to admire his tenacity.

“And sulking in your room.”

“I wasn’t _sulking_.”

Sarah pinched the bridge of her nose. “Alright! Kids, _knock it off_. I really don’t need to tell you that this isn’t going to be a walk in the park, do I?”

“So is staying at Gandhara. As long as you’re still here, _shit happens_.” Sartuk pointed out.

“Amira’s got her medical and linguistic specialty going for her, why should I take _you_ into the team?” Sarah asked, giving up. He was right. There was no guarantee that he’d be any safer if he didn’t go with her either. Choices, _choices_. There was a shit-eating grin on his face right after she asked that question. He pushed his hands into his pockets as he answered.

“Because I can understand any language Amira can except one, and she’s not going anywhere without me. Don’t look at me like that. I did say I have an idea to get her a free pass, right? And that idea is to get me to tag along and help watch her back.”

Amira huffed. “I don’t need a _babysitter_.”

“You don’t need to argue with me, talk to you father. I just know that if I don’t go, it would give him a heart attack to see his only daughter going off to the borders alone,” Sartuk said casually.

“What am I, chopped liver?” Sarah murmured, annoyed.

“Probably because I’m a guy.” He answered carelessly. Two pairs of sharp glares snapped in his direction.

“What? I didn’t say he didn’t have a gender bias. Or just protective over his princess.” Sartuk shifted his gaze to Sarah. “Anyway, you might need someone who can make a pipe bomb. I can make a pipe bomb.”

“ _Sartuk._ ” Amira warned. She was surreptitiously eyeing their surroundings as she did so. Sarah’s eyebrows were approaching her hairline as he said that.

“Look, it’s _all_ just applied chemistry and a steady hand. Like, give me a well-stocked chem lab and some allergy medicine and I’ll fix you up with methamphetamine. Ain’t that hard either and it’s not a bad idea if you run low on cash. Or have no cash at all.” There was a challenging look in his hazel eyes at Sarah, but she could see that it was part bravado. He did not relish the idea of getting left behind—or was it of Amira leaving without him?

“I’m pretty sure that running a meth lab isn’t tested on the chemistry A-levels,” Sarah said sardonically. She really had a hard time not smirking and bait him further. It seemed he had completely baited Amira, though.

“ _Sartuk!_ ”

An elbow jab was replied with a shin kick. Sartuk yelped even as he retaliated and Amira’s poker face along with her rather vicious hits was actually impressive. Sarah almost couldn’t believe the childish scuffle her friend was lowering herself to. Amira did have a point, though. The café was still a little too public to be casually talking about meth and pipe bombs. Her chuckle broke them off.

“Well, my current situation is that, one, I don’t think we’re that strapped for cash, and two, I think the United Nations would look down on _anything_ associated with drug running. No matter how petty.” Sarah answered.

“Meh. You say that now.”

Amira’s pointed throat clearing sound shut him up.

“Alright. I’ll run the plan to my boss and yes, that means I have to tell him about you guys. Civilian involvement always complicates things.”

“You act as if you’re not civilians either,” Sartuk cannily pointed out, to Sarah’s annoyance. She had been hoping that he didn’t really know about that.

“Write us down as translators, subcontractors, something like that.” Amira cut in. “That’s makes sense, yes?”

“I’ve practised with the AK-47. Yes, _really_. It’s not really that hard to procure one in the market and—”

“ _Sartuk, if you don’t shut up now, I will make you_.”

‘-

Just outside the village in Gulmira that Sarah had managed to slip out from, inside the abandoned office, the afternoon barely reached inside the buildings. Sarah stared at the _Stark Industries_ logo and name without a concern. Their logo looks very familiar, for some reason.

The lobby was covered with dust. The air had gone stale with a lack of circulation. She had to hold her breath for a moment to stop the urge to endlessly sneeze.

For a place that Sarah had thought was cast off, it had more furniture than expected—the receptionist’s table was still there, as was the low waiting table. Hadn’t the company here packed up and moved on? From where she was skulking at, it seemed they had left in a hurry and left many things behind…

…including that ridiculous plastic palm at the corner of the room. She moved on to the corridors beyond, her cell phone held in front of her as a makeshift light. Without windows, the lack of electricity meant her path was plunged into inky darkness.

Sarah wasn’t really expecting something as miraculous as an unnoticed bomb shelter, or maybe underground vault somewhere on the grounds that the villagers could use in case the firefights gets really nasty. But she had the slightest hope that maybe even the empty offices could be useful for a similar purpose. The place had been untouchable for a while, after all; to gain entrance, it took some time for her to find a glitching fire escape door on the northeast side of the building. It was clear that no one had managed to enter for months from the layer of dust visible. The whole placed smelled more of dust than sand, along with that stale air smell that abandoned houses have.

Annoyingly enough, there were too many locked doors on the ground floor. She would’ve tried picking a lock or two if she could be sure that there was something interesting on the other side instead of just another empty room. The door to the warehouse was noticeably larger than others. It was unfortunately padlocked instead of just locked. Rather than pick one boring door out of many, she’d rather try the second floor first. Up the closest stairs she went. After a summary check, she grinned.

_Jackpot_.

The second floor was smaller than the ground one. One room seemed to end up in a viewing deck that afforded her a view of the first-floor warehouse. It was unlocked—maybe because they didn’t think there was anything of worth there other than some tables and creaky chairs. She strolled right into the middle of the observation deck, where half of the room’s walls were panelled glass.

She gazed down and froze.

It was not the largest warehouse that Sarah had seen. She’d seen many larger ones. Even then it was still large enough to fit one or two small light aircraft inside. Of course, no such planes were inside. What was there was rows and rows of shelves, its racks set at different heights depending on its contents.

From this height, she could see grenade launchers and light anti-air weapons. There were rows and rows of automatic and semi-automatic guns, of rifles and smaller arms. She could identify ammunition boxes stacked neatly at one corner. In the dry desert air, rust wasn’t something anyone needed to worry about. Inside the warehouse, covered from direct sunlight and harsh winds, the weapons stayed pristine.

There was also a reason why the symbol was so familiar. She’d seen it in many black-market weapons. She’d seen it in the hands of people defending their village and families as often as she’d seen it in the hands of random paramilitary groups spreading more chaos and blood over the land.

Far from finding sanctuary, she had found a _siren_ , its song serenading war to settle in this certain spot in Gulmira. These were simply more of the poisonous roots spreading the senseless nightmare that had besieged the village.

She had found a treasury of the merchant of war.

All the anger and pain that she felt was so much and so overwhelming that all she could feel now was an encompassing numbness. It was a bitter chill in her heart. Because she didn’t want to cry, and because there was no one who she could yell at that deserved it, she gathered her resolve like a cloak around her. Sarah stood still, regal and untouched.

Armed and polished like any weapon, Sarah wielded her most charming _smile_.

_I’ll make sure that somebody pays for this_.

‘-

Then Tory’s last email came and Sarah’s decision was made. She would cross oceans and _worlds_ if it came to it, if that was what it takes to bring Darcy back.

She had business for the arms dealer.

‘-

The current Sarah, friend of Darcy, is a globe-trotting multi-linguist who shied not from being assigned to conflict-prone areas. There is a certainty in her eyes, the convictions that she followed gave her a spine of steel in facing the world with all its imperfections.

The Sarah of several years ago, as stubborn as she was, had yet to be as hard or as determined. The idealism to change the world, on the other hand, had always been there—and it was this idealism that lead her to political science. Many would say that she was among the most level-headed student in her major, but she would be the first to disagree with any such claims. After all, she knew there were many peculiarities within her.

For one, she always took fairy tales seriously. Secondly, out of anything in the world that can catch Sarah’s eye above all things, it would be a flash of thistledown hair.

Ever since a certain year in high school, that particular shade, that peculiar weightlessness that seemed impossible without copious amounts of hairspray, had always made her take a second look. She had never been right, though—and yet she was only more relieved each time. It did not happen often; sometimes, there were months without anything of close resemblance. It never lessened her sensitivity, though—she always, _always_ noticed it within one second. The first one she saw was only a longhaired cat on the bookstore owner’s shoulder. It was at the corner bookshop she’d always loved visiting, not far from her favourite park.

Another time it was only a creepy taxidermy of a bird of paradise, pale feathers trailing behind it when she was in New Mexico. That was when she had been checking out apartments before college starts. Then it was a mere wig over a mannequin. It was just an accent on the hat of a theatrical costume that one time she played the Faerie Queen. The one she thought she saw in the audience was harder to dismiss, though, but another search after the lights went back up had given her nothing. That had been half a year ago. Now, just as she was on her way to campus it was just…

_…a gentleman with thistledown hair_.

She blinked and walked into the coffee shop without conscious effort, weaving through the harried office workers, the bleary-eyed college students and people with a nervous tic waiting for their caffeine fix.

Sitting on a table for four was a man with thistledown hair, with the careless air of a born _artiste_. How he kept the other three chairs of his table still mysteriously empty in this morning rush hour was a mystery. No one seemed to have paid much attention to his table.

Sarah had made a decision before she realised it. She sat down on the chair right in front of him.

_This is a public space_ , she tried to calm herself down when she realised what she had done. _Neutral grounds. Neither mine nor his. This is completely_ okay. _This can be considered as a parley._

“Is this seat taken?” She asked.

He looked up from his book. His eyes were pale blue, but one was oddly darker than the other.

“Not at all,” he replied. His voice smoother than silk and it was just as compelling as the voice she remembered in her mind.

His book was the size of a large paperback and bound in red velvet. _A storybook_ , Sarah thought as she could feel her heart rate increasing slightly, _and not just any story book_. She had a book exactly like that when she was fifteen, where she liked to imagine she was a princess in it.

“So, what brought you here?” Her tone was sharper than she’d intended.

“Coffee? This place is quite famous for its roast.”

The stranger (not-stranger) raised the cup in front of him. There was an ironic touch to his voice.

It was the right answer and at the same time not one that answered her, but she had to admit that he was right. She remembered that the coffee here _was_ good. Sarah wasn’t the self-centred teen she once was to randomly accuse that she _knew_ he was here because he was looking for her. Even imagining herself doing that almost made her wince. Why _shouldn’t_ he wander here once in a while during breakfast? She had been the one to search him out, not him.

For all she knew he had planned to spend his morning drinking coffee and minding his own business.

They held each other’s gaze far longer than strangers would. He wasn’t discomfited the slightest and she wasn’t one to back down from anything.

“Is that an interesting book?” Sarah finally asked.

_Why did I even ask that?_

His expression was strange. Genuine surprise flashed for a moment before it melted away into something more complicated, bittersweet.

It wasn’t something she understood and it didn’t sit well with her because of it.

“Would you allow me to answer that with several sentences?” She heard caution in that question.

“Sure.” Because, why not? What had she got to lose?

“Suppose you have a tome that records your childhood years, no, the first bloom of your youth. Many things are indiscriminately there; the fancies and follies, the victories and vanities…all of it. It would be—ah, a _photo_ _album_ , that’s the words I was looking for. What would you think of it?”

Sarah could not quite imagine where the conversation was heading, but it hooked her in.

“It would have some embarrassing moments, I guess, but the memories would be interesting to revisit over the years as I grow up.” She answered.

He stared at her for a few more seconds without blinking. The asymmetry of his gaze, with his left eye darker than the right, was slowly creeping towards unsettling. She forced herself to not move the slightest.

“What would you think of the tome if it records the middle of your life, instead?” He asked.

“Well, it would still be memories to look back to, wouldn’t it?”

Being in theatre long enough meant Sarah picked up a few things from other departments, like the costume people. She saw how the cut of his vest was more akin to an Elizabethan waistcoat, apart from his personal preference of never buttoning the last two buttons (and sometimes more). The red brocade was too flamboyant for the understated coffee shop, but it fit him as perfectly as his wild and untamed hair. The smile he gave her was a blank one now.

“What if someone gave it to you when you were ten?” He asked.

She blinked. _What?_

“You mean, an empty photo album? Something for me to fill in the future?”

His lips quirked up at one corner, his voice dry as dust. “No. A _completed_ tome, one that represented a slice of your adult life. Yet presented to you when you were young and before you even grew to know your own mind. In the course of growing up, the pictures therein would become a future that seemed unavoidable to you.”

_Why would anyone do that to a child?_ Sarah thought with surprise,

…and she surprised herself for it.

Wasn’t the first thing she supposed to say was about how impossible it was? That you can’t give a child a photo album of his college years? But a part of her that had crossed between realms once before knew instantly that it wasn’t _completely_ impossible. There was a part of her that had continued to read and study lores and stories since that day, who’d tried to guess _what_ exactly was the man she had encountered that one time was. Seeing someone so like him again (must be him (could only be him)), had resurrected that bone-deep curiosity once more.

“Tell me,” she finally said, “why would anyone do that to a child?”

“Why would they do _what_?” He sipped his coffee with a nonchalance she didn’t feel.

She didn’t stop the disbelief from flowing into her voice, the first strains of anger.

“Why would they curse him with a _prophecy_?”

He stilled, all movement evaporating and the cup froze mid-air. If he kept at it for ten minutes, he might as well be a statue from the rococo period.

The gentleman with thistledown hair met her gaze and smiled, the cup now back on the table. It was a cynical smile, but she preferred the honesty within it to the bland one he gave at first. The glimpse of the mercurial shadows lurking inside him was far more real than the mild politeness. Her gut feeling told her it was a façade for modern life. The blue of his eyes was brighter now, the angles of his face more noticeably pointed…or was it the world that seemed less real compared to him?

“That is an…interesting conclusion for you to take. It’s only a photo album, not so important after all.”

_“It’s only forever, not long at all._ ” The memory surfaced unbidden.

Sarah almost jerked back at the recollection. She had been doing her best not to remember about that trip at all, and yet her memory remained as fresh as if it happened yesterday.

“It is ‘only’ a life shadowed by one future, robbed of the choices other people get. What is it if not a prophecy?” She quickly said, covering up her first startled reaction with her opinion on how shitty prophecies are. Yet was that what she actually wanted to ask him instead of whatever questions she still had about the past?

“An albatross,” he replied, throwing her off balance again.

“A _what?_ ”

He gestured a line across his throat.

“It could be an albatross hung around the neck. It could be a _warning_ , as I’m sure you would know in your analysis of Perrault’s children stories—some of their morals are clearly for a child’s obedience to adult figures, wouldn’t you say? It could be a _price_ ; for we _all_ know that the carelessness of Beauty’s father in Beast’s garden was paid by _her_ instead of him. It could be mere bad luck, like the mortal that saw the bathing Artemis. It could be anything and everything, really.” He said this lightly, with a far more arresting tone than many of her lecturers that she couldn’t help but envy him.

It could be anything, true, but Sarah did not believe in the slightest that it was not also a curse. Not in the darkness that sometimes caught hold of his expression.

Of course, she noticed what _other_ things he was saying a few seconds later.

“Are you stalking me?” She asked.

He paused, squinting at her from above his coffee mug. “Of course not.”

“You’re lying.”

His gaze was amused with more than a touch of condescension. “I _can’t_ and you _know_ why, my dear _Champion_. Sadly, it would seem that your mind has hardly grown after all these years. I am simply applying reason unto what I see – one of the books you’re carrying is _The Golden Bough_. Why would you _not_ still read your fairy tales?”

_Oh, right_. She was on the way to the library to find a peaceful place to read before her first class. _Just when I thought I won’t make a fool of myself_ , she thought with an inward sigh.

“It doesn’t mean you have no intention to do so,” she randomly replied, more annoyed at herself than him and yet too stubborn to admit that he had the current advantage.

He grinned. With many pointed teeth than one could find in a human, it was a happily carnivorous grin. She was easily reminded of the fact that for most of the animal kingdom, baring your teeth is not a friendly gesture at all.

“Are we going to start assigning punishments for _intents_ , Precious? I have no doubt that you have as much that you’d rather not share…with your stepmother, for one. Or are you sure you’ve been such a model stepdaughter from the first year?”

“And you’d what, tell her?” She was incredulous.

“Of course not.” He mocked, disappointed that she had chosen a most plebeian retort. “Yet would you castigate me for the kinds of thoughts that you give free reins to yourself?”

He continued. “Of course, if you _are_ that sort of person, well, I needn’t say anything more. Your personality will speak enough for you, the same way my ruined castle spoke eloquently of your gallivanting. Not that it matters in the least since you weren’t the one who had to clean up the mess.”

She had to hold back the urge to reply to that with _‘it was an accident!_ ’ or worse, ‘ _but I didn’t mean it!_ ’

Yeah, because _that_ would absolutely convince him of her maturity.

“You took my _brother_.” She insisted.

“I wasn’t the one who threw a tantrum and wanted to get him out of my life—whoever said that blood will out is an _idiot_. What _I_ did, was what my office requires of me, what the…challenger, requires.”

His expression was jaded and there was a frigidity to his tone. The imperious sternness of a king. If she was younger, it might have frightened her. Now, she was surprised by how easily she could see the myriads of people that freely called upon him. Another flash of memory took her back to that time when she was a teenager who thought she hated her baby brother, and Sarah had to stifle the urge to cringe.

_I wish the goblins would come and take you away! Right now!_

She wouldn’t be the first person to have wished that they never had a sibling, a daughter, a cousin…and she wouldn’t be the last to try to remove themselves of blood relations either.

Now, she would bet that some who had called upon him would actually be relieved that he could take away _someone_ they consider a burden.

As harsh as that seemed, he was only a reflection of an unkind world. A symptom instead of the cause.

Now, she was curious enough to wonder, _could you turn any of them down? Could you choose to not take a call?_

But now, she was also wise enough to have an inkling of the answer. There was the possibility that it would not exactly be a pleasant conversation topic—or a pleasant _anything_ , for that matter. She’d read and heard from too many folklore stories that the fae are often bound by their words, but she had no idea how bound he was. If it was, he would certainly not tell her about such a painful truth.

Behind the jaded blue eyes, she thought she could see fatigue.

He blinked at her for a few moments, staring at her with a pointed curiosity. It took her another second or two before she realised how strange it is for him to see her listening instead of running off with her mouth. Or maybe she’d been staring for too long. Sarah only quirked an eyebrow at that and chose not to react further. _Let him wonder_.

“Really, must we have this conversation yet again?” He shook his head, boredom in the slight downturn of his lips. “You have more crimes to lay on my door, I suppose? About how I must have made you hate your brother in the first place? That I made you give him up? Perhaps there more proof on how I must certainly be out to ruin your day?”

For all the truths in his statements, it still grated at her nerves.

Sarah rubbed her forehead and trying to ignore how a small part of her still wanted to blame him.

“You couldn’t have possibly ruined my day. You can’t even simply come into my life as you wish, can you? You’re _completely harmless_ to me,” Sarah commented, the lilt of her voice more of a challenge than a question. Her sharp mind had intuited quickly why she had never seen him before now—she had came out the victor in their encounter. He had no power over her. The way he narrowed his eyes and tensed his jaw made her think that she could’ve slapped him and done less harm.

“I had to make the first move,” Sarah pointed out.

“Congratulations on your first move. I’m sure you’d fit in perfectly with the best of the elven court if you apply yourself to belittling more people around you.” His reply was dripping with sarcasm. “I suppose the done thing for heroines when they encounter villains _is_ to attack, isn’t it?”

She regretted her barbs as soon as it was out but she was damned if she’d let it show.

“You’re not exactly a villain.” Sarah replied. He snorted.

“Don’t say what you know is not true, Precious. Neither of us are that stupid. At least I _thought_ you weren’t.” He was so matter-of-fact about it that she had an unfamiliar feeling of embarrassment rising.

“Well, if it helps, I don’t really see myself as a heroine either.” She hedged.

“ _Really?_ ” He drawled, low and rough around the edges. For all his disbelief, Sarah found his tone to be completely inappropriate in a public place.

Or maybe that was just her imagination being hyperactive. _Dammit_. It sent a discomfiting shiver down her spine.

“Yeah. Can you imagine having an epic final battle in a coffee house? So blasé. Ask me again when we’re in another castle. Now, we’re just two people taking a break from the usual and having coffee.” She pointed out. 

There was truth in his words, though – she couldn’t stop thinking of herself as a heroine in her own story. He was good at seeing the sharp shards of her soul instead of the the smart and shiny surface that impressed people easily. She wasn’t who she’d been once, but it didn’t mean that her petty side had completely disappeared.

There was still a lot of room for her to grow.

What made her relax even further was the way his hand gripped the book. For all his nonchalance, the topic was not exactly a walk in the park either for him.

Sarah could unbend for him a little. She wasn’t exactly that self-absorbed either now.

“Alright, you’ve made your point. I was an annoying brat as a teenager.” Sarah said. From the way his eyebrows approached his hairline, he hadn’t expected her to admit anything at all. She waved it all away with ease. “It doesn’t mean I don’t disagree with you on the curse thing, though. Granting someone knowledge of possible future actions is _not_ kindness at all—far from it, actually.”

He shrugged. “It’s your right to form an opinion.”

“I want to get to the bottom of it,” she stated, not letting her eyes waver from him.

A lopsided smirk grew on his face, his tone dry. “Were you waiting for an approval? Since when have you listened to anything I say? I could say I forbid you and you would still go on your own way and destroy anything in your path.”

There was no way she’d let him know that he’d just scored a direct hit. She rolled her eyes. “You make it sound like I’m a berserker.”

“And yet it’s true. I can never tell the difference from the destruction you left behind. One would think a giant had just crashed through.” His tone of wonder was too glib.

She glared at him, but it was difficult to stop the beginnings of a smile from forming.

“Ass.”

“Princess.”

That surprised her.

“Princess?”

He nodded, leaning forward as if he was sharing a secret. “Oh, you know. Commanding, entitled, selfish, mesmerising, beautiful—all the usual things most people want and love out of their princesses.”

“I can’t imagine why,” she replied dryly.

“I can’t either.” His lips twitched on one corner.

She would not start dwelling on the words mesmerising and beautiful. She would not.

“A princess must also be a complete pain in the neck,” he lowered his voice in conspiratorial discussion. “Mustn’t forget the pain in the neck. How else does she prove her excessive power over everyone else? Demanding balls and dances with a snap of her hand and expecting you to come up with it with barely a day of preparation. And of course, the thing with princesses is, you can’t ever say no to them.”

“You _wouldn’t_ even want to say no—and that would be the scariest thing of them all.” His voice was low now, but she could hear his every word _perfectly_.

That brought her thoughts to a halt. _No, that wasn’t real, was it? That was just a dream_. She couldn’t completely convince herself about it, though, the same way she couldn’t quite forget her dream of dancing in a ballroom.

_With a man with thistledown hair_.

“Can’t, or won’t?” Sarah asked.

That wasn’t the question she’d wanted to ask, but it slipped out, anyway. In lieu of an answer, he gave her one of his real smiles, magnetic and frightening in equal measure. All she saw in his eyes were their wintry colour and the silence spread over them.

“At least _I’m_ a charming pain in the neck. Imagine how bored you’d be otherwise.” She forced herself to say, keeping her tone light.

He grinned this time. It was the same grin a field mouse would see right before a bird of prey snapped its neck. She forced her hands to unclench, forced herself to stay relaxed. Even if his expression was as far from harmless as possible, she wouldn’t trade it for anything tame. She hadn’t imagined the lightness in his tone, the ease in his shoulders.

“Yes. There is that, I suppose.”

And then, because the possibility of consorting with what might be an eldritch creature from beyond her mundane world wins out to boredom and the possibility of hitting a depressive slump, Sarah made up her mind.

“Can I have your number?”

He blinked slowly as his expression blanked out. There was something particularly owl-like in that gesture, especially when he tilted his face to the left farther than one would thought was possible. Sarah didn’t stop a small smile from lighting her face. _So, he could_ still _be surprised._

“Pardon me?"

“Your number?” She said it so casually, as if he was an actual stranger she’d just gotten to know. “It’s what kids these days do to keep in touch with each other. Unless you prefer not to talk with me at all, but I have to say I’m not actually done with this conversation.”

Sarah pulled out a napkin and doodled her phone number and name on it, not caring if it was a nonsensical act to her conversation partner. It was a gamble but it was also one where she knew she had a definite edge against him. It was easy to notice how he had been staring intently at her all this time, especially when he thought she wasn’t looking. Some _meaning_ of what she was asking must’ve come across, wouldn’t it? He couldn’t be that out of touch with the modern human world if he could order a drink on his own, right? Besides, she was in a _coffee shop_ , she wasn’t about to start asking about finding or opening gateways, no matter that no one seemed to be paying them any attention.

It would take a while to check whether any passageways were safe for a human, anyway. A phone call would be a better idea.

“Here’s mine. I’d trade it with yours if you don’t mind.” She pushed it forward with the same ease and glibness as before.

He took the napkin in a moment. Before she could protest, he had already stood up and bowed over her hand, exactly like a courtier.

“You already know how to call me, Sarah.”

“Jareth,” she blurted out without thinking and Sarah covered her mouth with her hands and hoped to hell that her pale skin hadn’t betrayed her. Her face felt warm with embarrassment. This time, the corner of his eyes crinkled with his smile. It wasn’t one she’d seen before, not even in her memories. He seemed almost content.

She found that she could not look away.

“And here I thought you’ve forgotten,” his voice was too light for it to be completely casual. There was an undercurrent to it that Sarah absolutely refuse to analyse.

She snorted. “Are you joking? Have you seen yourself in the mirror? You _do_ know how you dress, don’t you?”

“So you _were_ looking.”

She kept her tone light. “I might be a kid back then, but I’m not _blind_ , Jareth.”

As soon as she finished that sentence Sarah had the realisation that it would be the last time that she used his name so lightly. The awareness in his eyes when she said it was too weighted and had too many layers. She really had no time to deal with it, not _now_. Not with college on top of everything else. Not when she had days when she felt as if she couldn’t manage anything much beyond trying to stitch her head together.

Jareth gave her one last nod of farewell along with a self-satisfied smirk and he walked away through the bustling coffee shop at a leisurely pace. Without Sarah herself noticing, her gaze had unconsciously drifted to his backside and his criminally tight pants. The man with the thistledown hair bumped into no one and no one bumped into him. They simply walked where he wasn’t and took some other path that wouldn’t intersect with his, or turn when they find himself about to cross. Everyone ceded to his right of way.

It was only after he disappeared that she remembered the details of that old story once more.

“… _what no one knew is that the king of the goblins had fallen in love with the girl_ …”

Did she just claimed that she believed it was a curse? Was that why he drew the conclusion away from it, so she wouldn’t embarrass herself with even more outlandish theories? Did it sound like she was trying to deny about whatever happened in her teenage years? To pretend that whatever he had said to a fifteen-year-old who couldn’t yet understand what he really meant had never happened instead?

_No, I’m not doing that_ , she insisted to herself. _I solved the Labyrinth and got Toby back. I made mistakes and learned from them_. She wouldn’t be who she was now without them either.

Sarah pinched the bridge of her nose. No, this was something else. Regardless of his disinterest, she would like to try to figure out what can curse someone (something) like him. She never turned down the _interesting_ from her life, not when utter boredom always has her itching to do something reckless.

No, this was a much better idea.

And that was how their odd association began (again).

‘-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary, Schmossary:
> 
> **_Abitur_ :** A final exam for secondary school pupils in Germany, Finland, Lithuania and Estonia, the term came from Latin – "one who is going to go away", "a journey away is made". It is the future active participle of abire.
> 
> **_The Golden Bough_ :** A classic book on comparative mythology and religion by the Scottish anthropologist James George Frazer. First published in two volumes in 1890.
> 
>  
> 
> Some notes on the details: 
> 
> _The gentleman with thistledown hair_ is a unique description that I definitely read first from Susanna Clarke’s inestimable _Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell_ for a particular fae king in the story. I make no claims on the originality of that description, only on creative borrowings. 
> 
> _The AK-47_ is also one of the well-known workhorses of armed insurgents, paramilitary peeps, freedom fighters and terrorists in third world countries. It is famed for its resilience as well as the ease of procuring its ammo*. My best friend swears that it has never let him down under conditions that would’ve killed other more accurate and refined assault rifles. Not to mention that it’s very easy to locate at the black market of your choice near almost all conflict-prone regions at affordable prices.
> 
> *Free tip for anyone trying to run a paramilitary org; don’t choose weapons with exotic ammos especially when you’re in someplace at the edge of nowhere – it would be a logistic pain in the backside. Choose a cartridge size that you know is available and affordable in the area.
> 
> _“…a well-stocked chem lab and some allergy medicine and I’ll fix you up with methamphetamine.”_ There is actually an allergy medication I’ve regularly used that experiences artificial scarcity at times where I live. Apparently, this is because the government thinks controlling it would allow them to starve the meth labs out of one of meth’s precursor compounds. It’s a real pain in the rear for someone who genuinely needs the medication for its intended purposes, though.
> 
> '-


	41. XLI. The Birds (The Forgotten Song)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _A conversation between two birds occurred upon a snowy field. A song unsung is not as lost as it seems. A barn owl gets pissed off at a crow._

### XLI. The Birds (The Forgotten Song)

_What’s with the æsir?_  
_What’s with the elves?_

( _Völuspá_ , stanza 48)

‘-

Sometime in the endless present, in a clearing in the middle of a snowy forest, there was an old well whose half of its walls was crumbling.

A crow sat on its lip.

The crow was unbothered by the weather and seemingly unconcerned by any passing creature. Yet it must be said that the forest was strangely quiet. It was not silent, no, but it would seem that anything alive and not were reluctant to disturb the blanket of quietness there. It almost seemed as if the forest was caught up in an enchanted sleep. The jagged teeth of a tall mountain range could be seen looming beyond the treetops in the background.

A barn owl flew down from great heights into the clearing.

It did so with such speed that it would appear to have arrived out of thin air. The elegance of its flight disturbed not the quiet, for silence had always been woven within its feathers. The crow was not the slightest bit surprised at this.

It landed on the snow without a sound and folded away his owlskin to stand regally on two legs, his owlskin cape now fluttered in the wind. The crow acknowledged its visitor with a nod and in turn folded away his crowskin. Now he was seemingly a man, sharp in gaze with hair as dark as a raven’s feathers, sitting on the lip of the ruined well.

“Tyto,” the crow greeted his visitor. He stood up and bowed.

“Coroné,” the owl, this gentleman with hair as pale and weightless as thistledown, returned the greeting in equal measure. “You are not an easy man to find.”

“I’ve been here for the last few days waiting for you to find me.”

“And where have you been before that?” Tyto asked, his tone dry.

Coroné smiled, “if you were me, would _you_ be an easy man to find?”

Tyto shook his head. “No, I suppose not. What is your purpose with the current mess? I thought you’ve had enough of playing errand boy to the _Hrafn_.” Hrafn. The Great Raven, the high king of all birds which is generally a pain in Coroné’s backside.

“And you don’t think that this is my own doing?” His voice was sharper now at the accusation. The owl only regarded him with a cool stare.

“Coroné, _really_? We all know you’re just a prince playing war to gain your own kingdom. If Hrafn had been serious in eliminating you, you will not be yet living.”

“And what would a hermit king of a backwater kingdom know of current affairs?” Coroné asked back, smile as sharp as the other man’s.

“This hermit king is one of the few male _seidr_ wielders and can sense the chaos entering the weave of fate. After that, a short flight to the capitals of Alfheim and Svartalfheim will easily flourish one with the details; people are such enthusiastic gossips. Don’t ask foolish questions—you wield the exact same magic yourself.” He replied idly, a small crystal ball had appeared out of nowhere in his hands and his attention seemed to be taken by it.

He fluidly let it run up his shoulders and down to his gloved hands. In his hands, it almost seemed to have a will of its own.

“Did you know that the Allthing is to be held in Asaheim this month?” The owl asked. It was rarely held—it hadn’t even been held in more than a century.

The crow turned sharply at his words. “You cannot mean that.”

“Since when have I ever lied to you, here?” he replied. This prompted a small smile on both of their faces, mirroring each other in cunning and guile. Just because neither of them could lie right now does not mean they couldn’t slip a truth under the wrong light. “Hrafn has not been handling things very well recently and there are far more conflicts in this half-century than there had been in the last five hundred years. Or so I’ve heard from the elven court.”

“I am aware of that. I have just never thought it would be…” Coroné’s words trailed away.

“That it would be this serious? Of course not,” Tyto snorted. “You Asgardians tend to make the same mistakes. Most of the Aesir think the universe revolves around Asaheim, and the changes occurring in other worlds and other places fly past like ashes. Until a piece of ember hidden under all the ash hits you in the eye.”

“How did it happen?”

Tyto shook his head, a knowing grin on his visage. “Ah, not so fast. One thing at a time, Coroné. This is why you cannot seriously mean to assist the Jötnar” the owl said.

“But am I?” The crow asked back as he tilted his head to one side. “Perhaps it is you who have seen things incorrectly.”

His pale blue eyes flash, the right one becoming paler than ice, if that was possible. His left remained dark, the blue but a thin ring around his fathomless pupil giving his gaze an uncomfortably asymmetric look and heavier in weight than centuries. The crystal ball in his hand was starting to glow white.

“Do not. Jest. About _Fimbulwinter_.”

A harsh wind swept the clearing, ruffling through their hair and leaving small traces of frost in its wake. The two birds (men (other-creatures (gods))) were still staring at each other. The crystal ball was dark now, the power gathered there well spent. The crow nodded first to acknowledge the point.

“I will not jest about it either, Tyto. I am not _insane_.”

“One might be persuaded otherwise, seeing what you’ve been up to,” Tyto said dryly. The crow rolled his eyes, a gesture he had picked up from being around humans for a while.

“I am not insane _now_. I had thought that you considered most of the mess of inter-realm politics to be beneath you.”

The owl shrugged, the elegant movement belied the years he had spent as a young man at court as he walked away. He gave his back to the crow with casual ease, belying either trust or confidence in his own power.

“If it is only politics, yes. You may take over one realm or three, I couldn’t care less as long as it is not mine.”

Coroné snorted at the idea. He might be ambitious, but a fool he wasn’t.

“First, it’s not _possible_ to take your throne by force, as it is one of the oldest kingdoms. It’s only possible to do that by Ancient Rites of Challenge. Second, why would I do volunteer myself for it? I’m not an _idiot_ to not know the price you had paid.”

“And yet…” Tyto turned his head around to a degree that would’ve been creepy and impossible for a human. His mismatched eyes found Coroné’s easily.

“Do you truly know of everything going on in the Nine Realms? Of the people you chose to ally yourself with? The Laufeyson idiot is tearing holes in reality using things he does not understand. Someone must stop him.”

“Funny you should mention a Laufeyson idiot…”

Tyto sniffed, cutting off that line of speculation before it even began as he walked closer to the other bird once more. He hadn’t missed the slight stiffening of Coroné’s frame and realised quickly about the harm he had done by accident. Blood seeped through the crow’s shirt.

“You’re not one. You might be foolish or overly idealistic, but you’re not an imbecile, Coroné. Please don’t start to be one now, I already lack intelligent conversation as it is.”

That earned a more natural-looking smile from the crow. “Wouldn’t you be the perfect person to be the hero, Tyto?”

“Someone has pointed out that I am the villain,” the owl said casually. So casually that one might miss the brittleness in his gaze. “It would not be the done thing for me to be the hero, would it?”

“People have said the same about me,” the crow replied with the same air of studied casualness, with the slight bitterness in his voice. The owl sent him a vexed look.

“Then why did you bother to meet here?”

A pause. He glanced skyward for a moment before meeting the gaze of his visitor once more.

“I have need of your assistance…”

“…and water is wet and fires burn.” Tyto finished drolly, his crystal ball travelling easily from one shoulder to another, ignoring the warning glare aimed at him. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“I do _not_ want to bring Fimbulwinter.”

Tyto’s gaze was piercing. “Your statement might be true and yet you may still unknowingly assist the process.”

Coroné rolled his eyes. “By your standards, half the known worlds might be assisting it _right now_.”

“Do not jest—”

“—about Fimbulwinter,” the crow finished. “I am not and I won’t—certainly not to a Guardian such as you. But I _do_ know, enough to know that what I wish to do _will not_ unwittingly assist in that direction. And I need your assistance.”

The owl took two steps forward, eyes bright and still asymmetrical. “What are you trying to do _this time_?”

“Now, now, one thing at a time, Tyto. I’m sure we can talk about it later once we’ve gone over the main concern.” The crow’s grin showed a sharp row of teeth this time while the owl was unamused as he turned back, his feathered cape billowing behind him. A glimpse at the corner of one’s eye and it gave the impression of an outstretched pair of owl wings. A blink and it was gone as he turned back to face his companion.

“What kind of assistance do you need, then? To stop it?”

The crow strode away from his spot, mulling his thoughts. “Not _exactly_ , but _maybe_ in that direction. I need to call forth the _genius loci_ of an entire planet to start the binding rites to a king. Who to better instruct me on that than the ruler bound to his own for centuries?”

The owl rolled his eyes as he observed his fellow traveller. He, too, had interacted with humans often to pick up that habit. He folded his arms in front of his chest and his crystal ball obediently rolled down to his wrist and palm. He balanced it on the tip of his fingers and made it look effortless. His eyes were half-lidded and his expression bored.

“So you wish for a favour from me _unrelated_ to Fimbulwinter. Why should I even help you?”

“The oldest reason in the world, of course—because I can return that favour.”

Tyto was all disbelief, a cynical smile upon his lips. “And _what favour_ that you could do for me that is ever worth it? I, bound so firmly to my own land that its delirium is my waking, my dreaming is still more of the same and sometimes I even wonder how much of me is real? I, who most of the younger generations thought merely hearsay or is but a dream?”

“And yet you will agree that a dream can be the seed of _anything_ if one but wishes it to be.”

Coroné said this carefully, trying to feel out the threads of power that he knew was there, emanating from Tyto. He knew Tyto was doing the same, but checking for something completely different. _Truth_. The owl blinked and his eyes were less like chips of ice now and merely the palest sea glass.

“ _Name your offer, Coroné_.”

A wind whipped past them at his statement while the crow stood his ground. It was not unexpected, especially when the owl had just spoken in one of the Old Tongues. One of the languages of binding and geas and magic.

The crow tilted his head to one side for a moment, thinking, trying to form the best words possible on his tongue.

“I have heard of your Dreamer.”

( _I know of the Answer to your Riddle Written on the Hill_ ) _  
_ ( _I know of the Dreams you can’t see yourself_ )

Coroné held his ground, not even when Tyto marched all the way in front of him and held him by his lapels. His voice was low, a warning.

“You do not know what you are talking about.”

“Don’t I?” He asked back evenly, his voice took on a slightly different cadence from there on.

“ _There was once a king_  
_with an acre of land_  
_between the nightfall_  
_and morning’s stand_

_There was once a king_  
_as like his kingdom, his land_  
_a riddle writ on a hill_  
_and lost dreams drawn on sand_

_There was once a king_  
_who did not take to law_  
_and neither to lawlessness_  
_but to tide’s ebb and flow_

_But would that be enough_  
_when the gods came?_  
_Would that be enough_  
_to answer “to me, all’s the same”?_

_Cunning and Wise gave him_  
_an eye for dreams and seeing_  
_Justice and Law took from him_  
_Feet in reality standing_

_Wise and Cunning gave him_  
_Strides long to cross dreams_  
_Law and Justice took from him_  
_Sight to see his own dreams_

_Cunning and Wise gave him_  
_Time’s spinning wheel to learn_  
_Justice and Law took from him_  
_A kingdom whole, a heart yearned—”_

 

“ _Enough_.”

There was absolutely no sound in the world around them. Nothing stirred, frozen by the command.

A thick liquid of vivid colour trickled down the corner of Tyto’s lips. _Blood_. The crow was painfully aware that it would not be the last either.

Bright spots dotted the snow.

Coroné closed his mouth and stepped back, knowing well enough what sin he had wrought now to reopen an old wound. He might only have laid out the beginning of the tale, but he had no doubt that his visitor was remembering all of it at once in his mind, all the curses laid on him and all the loopholes woven in turn for it by Hrafn—or was it all the blessings given freely by Hrafn and all the curses laid to break the disproportionate favours he was accumulating? To read Fate farther than that was beyond Coroné’s ken, especially when he was trying to see someone for whom time loops and doubles in on itself.

What he did know was that Law and Justice dislikes such blatant favouritism (to be the favoured of Hrafn, therefore, is always a double-edged experience). And yet it is the same Hrafn who created a solution that seemed nigh impossible, locked away in a little red book that most could not see, let alone read. The curse became dormant most of the time, yes, but at the same time it only seemed more unbreakable as centuries passed.

Centuries passed and people forget, the owl included.

If there was one thing the owl wanted it was to not be reminded of what the gods (Aesir (Vanir (Alvar))) have made of the weave of his life. He was _done_ with them.

If Tyto were to stab Coroné right now, it would be well-earned and he would not begrudge him. Yet the dark-haired man did not think he would be believed if he did not half-read, half-sung the old poem.

“That story is one that does not exist anymore, anywhere.” Tyto’s voice was quiet, its edges bleeding.

Coroné swallowed bile that he could taste rising up his gorge and backing up his crop. He did not have many whose company he enjoyed unreservedly, one who did not mind him either, and to lose one more would be…

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh no you’re _not_.” The owl said, just as perceptive, just as piercing.

The crow could feel blood flowing easily from the cut that appeared on his chest. He admitted that the owl was not wrong to accuse him of it. He said nothing in reply.

The gentleman (bird (elf (land-bound (god)))) with the thistledown hair as light and as wild as feathers stalked forward to his companion, his voice lowering as he stared ahead, unblinking in his judgement.

“You are sorry that you have caused me harm. Yet even then you will not stop yourself from doing so once, and maybe again after that, or even thrice, if it will gain you the keys to the kingdom.”

Blood trailed his steps.

“In that case, can you ever be said to be truly _sorry_ , Coroné?”

The crow could not even deny it as he lowered his head slightly in admission, and another, smaller cut opened over his chest and blood began to drip from it. He ignored the pain (truth).

“You can take my liver out now and I will not protest.” He offered in bargain.

The owl laughed, as keen as broken mirrors (thoughts (dreams (of a bright hall of dances (?)))). The crow shook his head to loosen himself from the tangle of images he didn’t quite understand.

(But such is the nature of dreams (especially one not one’s own)).

“Do I look like an eagle to you? I have no need of your liver, or your _head_ , for that matter. Never mind that I can still gain good value for it from some dwarves we both know.” The owl said.

“If you would like to do that, I would prefer that you try it after we do not have Fimbulwinter hanging over us.” The crow replied.

“Fimbulwinter. Such an inconvenience over all our affairs, isn’t it?” The owl mused, “And where would you find a song that has been unsung from the world?”

“From one that has been watching the world but is not part of it,” the crow answered. ‘And thus he forgets nothing.”

“Ah, the head sleeping at the headwaters of wisdom. I should’ve known the risks would be nothing to you.” Of course Tyto would have guessed about Mimir too. He was not a fool either.

“It is worth the reward.”

“Is it? How would you convince me not to take your head instead, for your insolence?” Tyto asked casually.

With a flick of his right wrist, his hand now held a sword instead of a crystal ball. It was not just any sword, with the greenish gleam of its poisonous dark blade. Loki recognised it because he had held it, back when the blade had yet to be reforged into a sword and was part of a halberd. He recognised it because he was the one who had given it to Tyto in the first place, to ask him to hide it from all that might search for it.

What better place to hide than with a man that many people think does not even exists?

The sword was _Mistilteinn_. The Mistletoe. The crow did not even falter at the prospect, his green eyes meeting blue.

“I can bring the Answer to your Riddle Written on the Hill.”

“You _cannot_.” He growled.

“No, _you_ cannot. _I_ am another matter entirely. That was how it went, wasn’t it? Exactly as _Ǫrn_ sayeth?” _Ǫrn_ , the Eagle. It was a name borne by one of the elders of the long-lived races. A name borne by Law and Justice.

“Unable to see your dreams the way you can see others’, you fall into the prophecy without being able to head it off. You failed to break it away before it reaches its end and your kingdom is sundered in twain. All of Hrafn’s weaving to make the Dreamer implausible did not quite manage to make her _impossible_.”

“Given enough time as the world turns, anything that can happen _will_ happen. Such is probability (prophecies (fate))” Coroné spoke quickly now, staring at the front of his visitor’s waistcoat as his words kept cutting at the same spot of an old wound. He was not wrong in his concern; he could actually see the blood flowing now.

The bright spots on the snow were turning into small puddles.

“Tyto, don’t make me say anything further.” The crow could not meet his gaze for long. “Please.”

“I’m not _making_ you say anything.” He snapped. It was a stab to his chest and the crow gritted his teeth at that.

“Believe me, then. Let me find your Answer. Let me find the Drea—”

The owl had crossed the distance between them in a blink, a bloodied hand (claw (wing)) covering his mouth. “Say no more. Don’t ever say that word again here—you have said too much already as it is. Fulfil your end of the bargain and I will fulfil mine.”

“I will.”

The owl extended his hand and gave the crow a crystal ball glowing with pure white light. The other bird accepted it curiously.

“What is this?”

“Your method of entrance, of course. Did you think it would be easy to enter my kingdom without expending too much magic and without my say?”

The crow nodded, forgetting for a moment how difficult that would be. He dropped the crystal into a chalice he was carrying. It went with a subtle splash before it appeared to have dissolved completely.

Tyto’s voice turned to ice now, his mismatched eyes eerie as he cocked his head to one side.

“If you promised wrong, I assure you that you will regret it for more than a century. I will be trivial to ensure that _Ǫrn_ hears of your lawbreaking and finds his way to you.”

It was hard for crow to hold his tongue at that, even if he managed to hold back the urge to take a step back and perhaps even forget about this ill-thought endeavour. But his ambition won, his curiosity even more so.

“The Lawgiver will have no love lost for you either. You cannot tell me you have truly forgotten _that_?”

Ǫrn who could never countenance Hrafn’s partiality to _anyone_. It did not matter if they were blood relations.

The smile he received in return was frightening because it was wide and unconcerned, sharp teeth coated in blood. The crow found it almost unbelievable. _Almost_.

“If you lied about—if you had overextended yourself just now in your schemes and talked of what should be left to the forgetfulness of time and the endless silence of space, do you think I’d care?”

With a pull of owlskin, thistledown hair spread, burst into feathers just as pale in mid-step. Then, the owl flew away. Coroné was still staring at the bright red puddle where Tyto had been standing before. He closed his eye and pushed down the guilt.

Even if he managed to find the Dreamer, it would not be enough for the hurt he had inflicted. He will have to do more than that to even his debt to an old companion of his youth.

For once, he found himself not minding the prospect of more work at all.

 ‘-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first time I put this chapter down, I slotted it as chapter XXXIV (34) before I stepped back and thought, wait, most people would have no idea what’s going on. So, I sighed, pushed it back, then planned and wrote all the other chapters in between…
> 
> The poem is something I had to make up myself. I thought I couldn't screw it up too badly if I just followed the meter of an already-popular work. So, I mostly used that of _Scarborough Fair_ /English - Scottish ballad pattern. Didn't try to be as rigorous with the rhyming because hell, that just means more work for me.
> 
>  
> 
> _On the conversation between birds:_ At this point, it’s bloody obvious who Coroné is, isn’t it? As for Tyto, the sharp-eyed reader would notice that he does have thistledown hair.
> 
> _What Tyto is doing with the crystal ball:_ It’s called contact juggling and one doesn’t actually need to use magic to do it. No, really. Look up videos demonstrating it on Youtube if you don’t believe me.
> 
>  
> 
> Mostly Mythological Meanderings:
> 
> **_Coroné_ :** (Greek), κορωνη/korone, “crow”. This nickname came from Linnaeus’s work in taxonomy, as it is part of the binomial name of a species of crow, the _Corvus corone*_ , the carrion crow.  
>  *Redundant name is redundant
> 
> **_Hrafn_ :** (Old Norse), Raven. The raven is also known as Odin’s bird in Norse mythology.
> 
> **_Mistilteinn_ :** (Old Norse) mistletoe, an evergreen parasitic plant that is toxic to humans. Technically, there are several mistletoe species, but they're all poisonous (only with different poisons!) In certain romantic Scandinavian sagas, this is the name given to a sword. As Turville-Petre (Ch IV, _Baldr_ ) pointed out, the development of the sword named Mistletoe can be considered as a rationalisation* of some aspects of Balder’s myth. The rationalisation occurs in the killing weapon being turned into an actual weapon instead of just a cut off part of a plant. (For further reference, see Hj. Falk, _Altnordische Waffenkunde_ , 1914)
> 
> *There are several good conjectures as to why this happens. One of the most reasonable one that I remembered was how the mistletoe's geographic spread does not reach Iceland, as in _there's no mistletoe there_. It's the same way there's no snakes in Ireland because of the geographic isolation of islands from continents/greater landmasses. So, people might be wondering what the heck is this 'mistletoe' the saga is talking about...and just turned it into an actual sword to make it more sense as something that can kill Baldr. But I digress.
> 
> **_Seidr_ :** A more ‘feminine’ form of magic, sometimes even translated as ‘witchcraft’, chiefly associated with the fertility gods (the Vanir), mainly Freya. It didn’t mean that she didn’t teach it to the Aesir, but it does have a disreputable edge from the more masculine perspective of Old Norse culture (the stigma is certainly bigger when a male practiced it—i.e., Loki). (See Turville-Petre p. 159-160, for example)
> 
> **_Tyto_ :** from Greek, τυτώ/tyto, “owl”. Some readers may have guessed or known already that it’s part of the species name for the barn owl, _Tyto alba_.
> 
> '-


	42. XLII. Exchanges (Three Magi)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Tony finishes a meeting with Sarah, Amira and Sartuk. A kidnapping occurs. Sarah checks out a new sitting room. Der Wichtkönig. Loki travels with a friend. Three Magi on a hill. In which Byleistr becomes even more powerful than before._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally merging Sarah's mini-arc into the greater whole. Phew.

### XLII. Exchanges (Three Magi) 

Tony pushed his StarkPad aside after seeing the photos that they’ve saved, the videos, the whole nine-yards of documentation. It was undeniable—he knew the location of that particular warehouse, even. He’d been there once. Before he had the arc reactor.

“So, every perp and their grandfather is gunning for the warehouse in Gulmira.” Tony Stark said.

He said it loud and clear, summarising the heart of the issue that the three of them had brought to him, but not many who knew him would’ve guessed that he was the one who said it. His voice was devoid of humour and its edges were hard and unforgiving. Pepper would still know it was him, though, because it was what talking about Gulmira always took out of him.

Amira nodded. “That’s what we figured out. There’s really no other resource they could be interested in around that area.”

His hands curled into a fist.

“If there wasn’t a village there, I would’ve bombed it into the stratosphere.” Tony said. “I thought the damned things were cleaned up already.”

It was not as if he raised his voice as he had earlier, when they had surprised him. Yet they stared at him all the same. Perhaps it was the coldness they hadn’t expected from someone that had been so animated earlier. His gaze was lost in some unknown distance for a moment before he shook himself out of it. As her two friends waited him out, Amira decided to stand and walk around a little.

“So…” Sarah started.

“Like hell I started any war there. I didn’t even _know_ we still had a warehouse there—everything was cleaned up the moment we walked out of the arms industry.” Tony answered.

Man, he hadn’t had enough coffee, Pepper had gone off already because he woke up too late this morning and now there’s _this_. Was it any wonder that he was pissed off? He had a feeling that everyone else was more laid back now because they’d seen him curse at every other evidence they’d brought forward.

“A worst-case scenario is if someone actually wrote that the warehouse has been cleared when it’s still there. That way, the system ignores it, and the inside man gets a warehouse full of goodies to sell and distribute as he likes.” Sarah said.

“A black-market arms dealer,” the coat-guy succinctly put.

Tony was rubbing his temples, trying to stave off the incoming headache. “Urgh, alright. This means Stark Industries need to send some deep forensic auditing. Then, we’re going to go down there to clean house. _Merde_.”

He would have gone there himself too, if his bone scaffold around the arc reactor wasn’t still being grown and set in place. He can only wait and wait some more for now.

“Whatever works,” Coat-guy waved it away without thought.

“You know, you guys are lucky that I’m not going to press charges,” Tony commented, his annoyance at their ambush hasn’t completely disappeared yet.

The only other male present in the room pulled the scarf from over his face down. His face was surprisingly young; add his curly dark hair and he was almost cherubic. “For what? Fighting words? I don’t think that’s in the books anymore. Besides, we’re not even _armed_.”

“What, you didn’t have _something_ under your coat, brat?” Tony asked.

The teen rubbed his face with a jaded sigh. “Urgh, it’s the freaking baby-face, isn’t it?”

“And the height,” Sarah jabbed, ignoring his groan.

“I’m the same height as he is—” he complained.

“No _way_. I’m _at least_ an inch higher than you, kid. At _least_.” Tony insisted.

“You’re also not _that_ old, Sartuk,” Amira said from somewhere behind them all. “And no, he doesn’t have anything under his coat either, Mr. Stark. Nothing that would trigger security.”

Tony’s brows creased. “I was pretty sure that there was something. It can’t be just my imagination…”

“It’s the body language,” Sartuk answered calmly. “Isn’t it, Mr. Stark? If you’ve seen several people with homemade strap-on bombs already, you know that odd combination of tension and bravado. The drive to act normal that actually stands out all the more. You’ve seen them, haven’t you? That’s why you immediately recognised me as a threat.”

The billionaire was reminded once more why he’d thought that the teen was much older. It was his eyes and his composure. His gaze had the edge and tiredness of older people and he was far calmer than most people his age would be in his position.

The fact that he could even imitate the body language of those nutheads meant that he’d seen more than his fair share of them as well. It hinted that he didn’t grow up anywhere safe. To think about using that knowledge… _intelligence and experience, eh?_ Maybe he should get the kid’s bio and let his headhunters figure out the recruiting and fit.

“And you’re saying that you have nothing in your hands as well?” Tony turned his attention to Sarah, still not quite believing what he thought he’d seen.

The attractive brunette smiled and revealed the spoon in her hands. A damned spoon!

“Well, great acting is in the delivery. If I believe this to be a knife, the audience will take it for a knife.”

“You guys should make your own troupe,” was his sarcastic reply.

Sarah accepted his suggestion with a bow and a flourish. “Why, thank you.”

“Still, we need to do something about the warehouse,” Amira said, returning from her wandering around the room in time to break their comfortable tête-à-tête.

“I’ll send people over,” Tony said. “Unless there’s _ten more_ , I don’t think it should be a problem for long.”

And if _that_ was the case, then he might as well introduce them to Iron Man. _The bone scaffold would be pretty set in a month, right?_ He mused.

“Now we can get back to Darcy,” Sarah finished for him.

Amira had procured a teapot from who-knows-where and a set of teacups on a tray. She calmly set four cups for all of them.

“Seriously, she’s _fine_. She’s on a classified job for now, but no one can send people to hurt her where she is right now. You wouldn’t believe the sort of access needed to get to that place and the people around her there have to pass their own clearances too. She’s certainly safer than any of you.” Tony answered, half wondering where Amira even found the teapot. This was his _lab_ —he was pretty sure Bruce mostly ordered lab supplies and he himself had tools and various engine lubricants.

“That doesn’t explain the ghosting,” Sarah said, sombre.

An awkward silence descended on them. Tony shook his head. “Darcy’s a good kid. Definitely wasn’t me.”

“Whoever it was, it sounds like she had dangerous enemies,” Amira said.

Sartuk huffed. “Is the sun hot? Does lava melt iron? Bloody hell, _of course_ she has dangerous enemies. It’s a lot cheaper to buy your own botnet in the dark web to bring down a website for _days_ than it is to ghost someone. It takes a higher level of skill to be that thorough, not simply ginormous DDoS throughput that you can get anywhere with crappy, unsecured internet-of-things appliances.”

Tony raised an eyebrow.

“…not that I ever bought a botnet or anything.” He brought his teacup to his lips and looked away.

“Tory’s worried about Darcy, but he’s not as crazy as I am. So, I thought I’d just be crazy enough for the two of us and cut straight to the chase. That’s why I came here looking for answers.” Sarah said this with ease and a complete lack of remorse as she stared at Tony. Something about her smile was giving him chills.

“Looking for you.”

Tony grimaced. _That sentence was as romantic as Hannibal Lecter’s invitation to a candlelight dinner_.

She did found a path straight to him, didn’t she? He really had to wonder how she managed it and whether it represented a security breach that he needed to patch. _Right now_.

“I have no idea whether Darcy should be glad she has a friend like you or _terrified_.” Tony finally answered.

“She should be terrifically glad?” Sarah said.

“Gladly terrified.” He shot back.

She only smiled back at that. Seriously, that smile would have easily been _really_ hot if she didn’t put in that Great White Shark edge to it. Tony still couldn’t help but to mentally shake his head at the loss.

“Who’s responsible for it?” Sartuk asked.

“I don’t think that’s easier to track down on the ‘net than reversing the ghosting,” Amira said.

Sartuk shook his head. “Oh, not on the internet, of course. But y’know, just by considerin’ the firepower needed to do that in the first place, you’ve already eliminated most of the small fry perps and are left with a few.”

“Do you even know what you’re saying?” Tony asked. “It’s mostly the state actors that are left if you do that.”

“Well, that means there are good odds it’s one of them, right? Isn’t that good news?” Sartuk said.

“Oh, yeah, _sure_. ‘Guess what, Darce, one of the alphabet soup agencies just erased your online presence!’ Yeah. It’s _real_ heartening to hear that.” Tony snarked.

The teenager paused. “Wait, an agency did _that_?”

Tony threw his hands up.

“What the hell do you think _state actor_ means? That means an arm of some government is after you! And Darcy doesn’t exactly have an international presence; the odds of a foreign government going after her is negligible compared to say, Jane Foster.”

He waited for the weight of his own news to sink in their mind as he leaned back into the sofa.

Tony didn’t use to keep track of which of his staff was at kidnapping risk until Pepper came out with the great idea to put the risk factor of the people close to him as well as the high-level staff into some sort of dashboard app. So, he coded that over several days. He left Pepper to perform the bureaucratic magic required to make sure the legal and security team actually fed it the data it needed.

Amira sighed. “So, even though she might be fine now, wherever she is, she _wouldn’t_ be fine once she returned here after her task is done.”

“Luckily, that won’t be for several months at the very least.” Tony said.

It would take at least a month to recharge the batteries required to run the Bifrost Lite to send someone else over and tell Darcy that she needed to get back. Absent that, Darcy would probably return after at least half a year. Pepper said something about needing to update foreign policy targets with new on-the-ground info. She had a surprising amount of knowledge on the State Department.

“Alright, I suppose we can wait for more news on that before doing anything,” Sarah said, even though it was clear that she was still not satisfied to leave it be without first seeing Darcy.

“I’ll keep you updated on the warehouse problem.” Tony said, sipping more tea. It was unexpectedly strong, which was what he preferred rather than the more delicate blends. Nevermind that Bruce always joked that he must have burnt his taste buds with battery acid. He’d always shot back that Bruce might as well just drink hot water as his tea blends could be so weak they’re barely there.

“This is actually pretty good tea. I can’t believe I keep some in the workshop—what tea is this?”

Unexpectedly, Amira smiled and pulled out a tin can from her hand bag.

“I’m glad that you like it Mr. Stark.”

“Tony,” he corrected her, staring at the unexpected appearance of the tin.

“Tony,” Amira nodded. “It’s my favourite blend too. Here, I can always make more.”

“Ah, thanks,” he replied, slightly bewildered. _She was carrying that around?_

“You actually carried _tea_ in your bag?” Sartuk was disbelieving. Amira rolled her eyes.

“I _always_ carried tea in my bag. Why not? You never know where you’d get good tea next. I didn’t hear you complaining about your drink.”

Fortunately for Sartuk, he knew a cue to shut up and count his blessings when he saw it, and simply decided to duck away from her _look_ and enjoy his tea.

‘-

Sartuk thought the whole adventure was ending in a disappointing whimper than a bang.

“We’ve gone all the way to New York and we still didn’t end up seeing your friend at all,” he complained as they walked across the lobby of the Avengers building. He didn’t know Darcy at all, but it wasn’t hard to figure out how important she was from the lines still creasing Sarah’s forehead.

“How are you so sure that he’s not lying to us?”

Sarah smiled even though it was very slight. “Because he turned pale for real when he saw the pics of those weapons with the _Stark Industries_ logo etched on them.”

“Yes, he seems pretty angry back there,” Amira nodded.

“We _still_ have no idea where your friend is, though,” Sartuk added, hands in his pockets.

Sarah sighed but said nothing else, drifting inside her own thoughts. He would’ve said something more if he hadn’t met Amira’s gaze just then and she shook her head. Well. They could always revisit the topic later. For now, the cold wind blasted past their face as they left the warm cocoon of the building straight into the busy sidewalk.

_Now what?_ He wondered. If Mr. Ali knew that Stark Industries was going to try to clean up parts of Gulmira, he certainly would tell them to wait until that’s done before trying to go back. Amira’s father certainly won’t be enthusiastic about his daughter going straight back, no matter how much he wanted to find his sister. It wasn’t as if Sartuk himself was excited to go back to the boondocks, anyway.

Still, waiting sounds like a bore…

“Eh?”

He turned around when he realised that his friends weren’t walking by his side. Sarah seems to have stopped and Amira waited for her because of that. In front of Sarah was a dark-haired man wearing a sharp black suit and a black hat—the outfit reminded Sartuk of the magicians he’d seen on TV. The man was handsome by most standards, but it was the odd look on the man’s face that raised his alarm. The unnerving smile had him running back without thought.

“This is nothing personal, I assure you.” The man said.

With those words and before Sarah could step away, he was suddenly standing behind her with a knife pressed to her neck. There was no way he’d misinterpret that gleam of steel near flesh. There was a brief flash, and he saw Amira on the ground. She had been closer and she probably tried to tackle them.

Sarah was nowhere to be seen. She and the mysterious man seemed to have disappeared into thin air.

“Shit!”

It worried him that Amira didn’t even glare at him for his language. She took his hand and stood up. Most of the people around them were too surprised to react in one way or another. 

“How much would you bet that _that_ was one of the supervillains the Avengers had fought?” She asked.

Amira’s voice was steadier than he expected.

“Not making a losing bet,” Sartuk replied, his voice much lighter than the weight in his heart. Amira was leaning on him right now, he can’t be anything else but calm. “We’re going straight back to Stark, right?”

“Yes. Definitely.”

_Alright_ , Sartuk thought _. This is the last time I complained that things were getting too boring_.

‘-

Sarah could be forgiven for her slow reaction because the man that had approached her out of nowhere was strangely familiar. She just couldn’t recall where she’d seen him before. Then, he said those ominous words, but at that time it was already too late for her to do anything. He moved too quickly and his teleportation was disorienting. Her stomach twisted as they stepped away from the pavement outside Avengers Tower.

The ease that he wielded magic to his will told her that her kidnapper was probably a sorcerer. If not, he would be someone who had a strong magician or a magic circle at his beck and call. She didn’t like the way her odds of escaping him had decreased. She thought all this within the first five seconds of being grabbed.

Strong wind howled in her face as he stepped out.

This time, she could feel the weak winter sun. _In downtown New York_. Considering all the skyscrapers blocking the sky, that was near impossible. A vertigo-inducing glance downwards told her that they haven’t moved far, but they did move in an unusual direction; _up_. They were on top of a telecommunications tower. The traffic sounded distant and faded below them, the cars no more real to her than miniatures.

Trying to struggle and get away from him right now was a monumentally _bad_ idea; it was too easy to accidentally fall.

Her kidnapper wasn’t the least bit worried. He was perched as comfortably as any bird above or below them, even while he was tying her up.

“You used _duct tape?_ ” Sarah yelled as she heard the distinct unrolling sound.

“Why not? It’s an ingenious invention, isn’t it? Quite useful.” He replied with what sounded like an annoying amount of cheer to Sarah.

“What, no magic chains?”

“Why waste more magic that you need?” He asked back.

_Damn_ , Sarah thought, _he’s not one of the magic-supremacist guys either_. If he could easily accept that technological means were sometimes more practical, it also meant he wasn’t an idiot. Even as she mentally eliminated another group of people from the kidnapper pool, she still felt like cursing. _Why do I have to have a smart kidnapper??_ He even went through the lengths of straightening her fingers and wrapping them up. It took her a few seconds to figure out what he was doing.

_He’s stopping even any chance of casting cantrips. No forming spells with my fingers_.

Not that she ever seriously studied magic—she had too-successfully convinced herself that it didn’t exist and hadn’t managed to break herself out of that habit until recently. She’d seen enough magic users to realise what he was doing, though.

“There we go.”

After he was done with binding her jeans together and her hands behind her back, he lifted her up over his shoulder again with ease. He was a professional in this—there was no sly efforts to cop a feel or even further groping. It was better than some of the borders and customs officials she’d dealt with in her travels. He didn’t even try to gag her in any way, which meant that he was confident enough no one would be able to come or even hear her if she asked for help.

Not that she thought anyone would notice them on top of this blasted tower.

“You know, competence is _not attractive_ in a kidnapper,” she complained.

“Really? And here I thought you’d appreciate a clean operation. I was hoping for a little Stockholm Syndrome to drop by. It’s not hard to encounter that when reading these days. Boy kidnaps girl. Boy and girl falls in love with each other.”

His tone was dry. Add the somewhat-British accent that he had, and Sarah couldn’t help but be reminded of a different acquaintance of hers.

“Stockholm Syndrome is over-represented in news and fiction! And most of those heroines can’t even stand up against a wet noodle!”

“Well, if it sells that well, many people think its romantic, isn’t it?” He mused.

“Then those people are _idiots_ ,” Sarah cut in. “If you’re just reading it for escapism is _fine_ , but there’s no way it’s an actual suggestion for real life!”

_Why were they even having this conversation?_ She wondered, as frustrated as she was baffled. He laughed. She could feel the vibrations of his chest from where she was slung over, and she knew he wasn’t pretending to laugh. It was a relaxed one rising from deep inside.

“Make sure you express that clearly to your kidnapper, then,” he replied.

“What are you saying? _You’re_ my kidnapper.”

“Ah, not exactly. I did say it’s nothing personal, right? I’m merely a…free agent accepting a challenge.” She was thinking over this as he fell quiet. He might have stopped talking to her for a while, but she realised he hadn’t stopped talking. In low murmurs, he was chanting something in a language she couldn’t recognise (and she could recognise a lot of language by ear now, even if she couldn’t always speak or understand all of them that well).

There was a tingling, a prickling wave of ice and embers washing over her skin. It didn’t exactly hurt, but something of that strength was always mildly unpleasant to experience at close range when one wasn’t the caster. Based on her sensitivity to things that go bump in the night and random occult stuff, she knew he was casting a spell.

_Damn. This means he_ is _the magician. Probably not one of the weaker ones either if he can cast something with that amount of spellpower_.

“Hold tight,” he commented.

“Like I can,” she groused.

“Ah, right. Well, I suggest that you close your eyes, then. Crossing the voids of the In-Between is nausea-inducing for many people.”

_The in-between?_

“Wait—”

The annoying man actually jumped off the telecommunications tower and Sarah didn’t hold back her scream. Wind rushed past them, chilling her skin, along with confused pigeons that quickly hurtled out of their way and a general feeling of _oh god, oh god we’re going to die_. Then she looked down and saw a black circle hanging in mid-air, and that they were heading at full speed into it. It grew bigger and bigger as they got closer, a mysterious gaping maw.

“I seriously hate you now!” Sarah screamed. It was hard to hear themselves against the prevailing wind.

“What, you haven’t hated me yet before?” He had the gall to sound casual.

“No! Not really!”

“My apologies, then!”

The surface of the circle was some questionable dark red fluid and they entered it with a splash. Dark red waters rose up. The circle consumed them and then stirred upon itself after they entered. Like a bathwater after the drain was opened, the circle spun, disappearing bit by bit to a smaller hole. In the end, that last dot, too, disappeared.

Sarah was not in New York anymore.

‘-

It was one of those dizzying journeys whose distance or time taken couldn’t be easily described.

A poetic man would have said it passed like a dream. That was far too pleasant. Sarah thought it passed as nauseously as a drunken night of binge-drinking.

She was sure they had crossed a desert for a few days, but the sun in her memories seemed to be rising from the west and sinking in the east. She thought they had crossed a great ocean too, on a boat, but not long after that she’d remember that the boat looked just like those paper boats she used to make for Toby to sail in ponds in various parks. It would be ridiculous to cross seas with it. She thought they’d climbed up a mountain, pretty sure of it. That was only until she tried to remember the views and discovered that she had just as many memories of walking down as well as walking up. Yes, walking down a slope whose bottom is covered in clouds, just like the mountain top was. All the up-walking and down-walking memories took place on the _exact_ same slope and path.

She staggered out of the portal hanging in mid-air with the mystery kidnapper supporting her on her right. She dropped herself on the chaise lounge.

“My _head_.”

“I know,” he grimly replied. He did not look as if he was in any better shape than her; he took the chair next to hers and slumped down as well. He was a lot paler than she was, his hat was lopsided before he corrected it. “Believe me, I’d rather not experience that more times than necessary either. That was already the shortest path I could find based on what I remember.”

They had stepped out into a small sitting room whose elegance was familiar to Sarah. It reminded her of the grand estates she’d visited in the UK. The room seemed to face south, as its windows were placed to provide plenty of natural lighting.

“You can call the castle’s service. I’m sure someone would come and bring you something to eat or drink if you wished.” Her kidnapper offered.

“Why don’t _you_ do it?” She asked back, her arm still over her face.

“Because you’re a guest here and I’m probably an unwanted trespasser the longer I stay.” He replied. “I’m not looking forward to getting poisoned, no matter how mild the dosage or effects. Even if I can decipher and concoct the antidotes soon enough, it’s such a hassle to have to throw up once or twice, don’t you think?”

That piqued her curiosity and she looked up. “You might not be welcome here?”

“Yes.” He answered, standing up. “I was more than a little forceful in getting our arrangement closed. He might still be in a bad mood.”

“By ‘he’, you’re referring to my actual kidnapper.”

“Precisely,” he nodded easily and with that annoying lack of guilt he’d displayed since the beginning.

“If you want to try to escape, I suggest that you get enough food and rest for yourself first before doing so. They won’t hold back on their hospitality for you—I have been told that you are not a prisoner. Why not use the arrangement to your best advantage for now? He’s probably still going to be busy for some time now.”

She gave him an odd look. “Aren’t you going against your master?”

He shook his head. It was hard to miss the mischievous glint in his vivid green eyes. “He’s not my master. It was merely an exchange of arrangements between two magicians.”

“Still…”

“The agreement was for me to get you here. It truly isn’t my responsibility if you manage to get away after that by your own means.” He replied as easily.

It was at this time that Sarah noticed their entrance portal—it hadn’t closed up behind them.

“I wouldn’t recommend you to try finding your way back from here. It does not lead back to Midgard in a straight line; It took all my wayfinding skills to get here and I’m certainly not going back to Midgard after this.” He commented, seeing her interest. This time, he was holding a chalice in his hands, idly swirling the liquid inside it. _Had he been holding that before?_

“After our acid-trip journey? I’m definitely not that stupid.” Sarah replied.

“Good. Wouldn’t want you to get lost in the In-Between, would we?”

“Yeah, well, I hope we don’t see each other again.” She replied.

He smirked. “Again, it’s nothing personal, Lady Champion.”

“Oh, just get lost already.”

With that, the black-suited gentleman took a deep breath and a weary put-upon expression before he stepped back into the liquid-ring portal. “Farewell, then.”

_That_ , she thought weirdly, _was the politest kidnapping I’ve ever experienced_.

‘-

Loki stepped out of the portal he’d made yet again.

The Alvar that Loki was looking for was standing on a hill in the middle of a lush orchard heavy with fruits. The afternoon sun burnished the peaches with gold and gilded the leaves of the trees. The western side of a city was neatly arrayed below them like miniatures. The air was the sweet scent of early autumn and the crisp coolness of the evening could not be more perfect. The king of this realm complemented the view well, his hair as fine as thistledown was seemingly crowned with the fire of afternoon light.

His wariness did not decrease he walked up, and he ended up casting at least two mental wards as he ran his thoughts through the spells he knew. How could he forget that this kingdom was built as a beautiful trap? Not everyone could differentiate between its mundane side and its fantastic one, or which aspects were harmless and which were poisonous.

It was a good thing he was familiar with the mental traps of Asgard’s most valuable orchard that he’d naturally kept his guard up here.

He couldn’t go wrong by increasing his psychic defence while here.

This was why he didn’t even try teleporting from the room he’d deposited his kidnapped target and simply took the more difficult path of using a portal to reach the elf he was looking for. Some of the areas of this kingdom had a tendency to move around, or switch positions, or maybe take a break from being normal territories for a while and move underground to sleep for a while.

“Jareth, your guest is installed in her suite,” Loki said. “I’m certain that my explanation is redundant to you, as you’d have your own ways of checking that with magic.”

The words _this_ is _your kingdom after all, Wichtkönig_ was unsaid but implied in their conversation.

“Yes. You’ve fulfilled your end of the bargain after all.”

The fae king was difficult to read—he did not sound particularly pleased either, only resigned. Yet if he wasn’t too pleased of the idea, why would he even agree to it in the first place? There were as many questions as there were answers. Even now, the Alvar might actually be looking down to check parts of his kingdom from this higher ground, or he might just be looking for fresh air to think over his problems, like the young woman now ensconced in her suite.

Loki didn’t know and didn’t try to find out. The first rule for working with elves was, _don’t ask questions you don’t need_. It would just give you a headache.

“So, about that land-binding…” Loki started.

“Lead the way.”

The dark-haired magician used the cup as his focus to open yet another doorway out of this tucked-away kingdom. Both of them stepped into a ring floating in mid-air made of blood and magic, into the mist-covered world of grey. Now, it was a matter of figuring out the most convenient path based on the signs he can see and avoid the—

“The one who will be land bound is not you, is it?” His companion asked.

“Certainly not.”

“Then who?”

_Why in the Norns is he asking now?_ Loki thought. Navigating the In-Between and its Worlds wasn’t a favourite pastime of his, it was even harder when he had to split his attention.

That was before he was tackled down.

“What the—”

“Less asking, more flying.”

That was when he realised that they were both dropping to no end, falling endlessly. What was worse was that he couldn’t see the land at all, just an unlimited powder blue world without any horizons. A high screech came from behind them—it sounded like giant griffins. Probably why his friend pushed him out of the way. _Wait, we’re currently travelling through the sky route? Ymir’s smashed brains, I_ hate _the sky route_. He had managed to completely avoid it on the way here too! Who knew his luck was bad enough that he’d still encounter it on the way out?

He shouldn’t have just ignored the blasted Alvar and not talk at all when they were stepping in. He wouldn’t have lost his way then.

On a _completely unrelated_ note, perhaps that was exactly _why_ his mildly sadistic friend made small talk in the first place.

“Have I told you how much I hate the journey to your kingdom?” Loki asked conversationally.

He said this while trying to twist away from a swooping griffin at the same time. That burning irritation on his right arm told him that he’d just gotten scratched.

The only thing he heard in reply was laughter. It faded away with the sound of wingbeats, but there was a series of hoots that still sounded too close to chuckles after that. Still, his annoyance didn’t lessen his vigilance; he didn’t need to be told twice about the risks they were facing. Loki shifted his form as well.

‘-

A circle of liquid floated on its side in a valley in Jötunheim like a piece of Dali’s surreal clocks, hanging in a landscape.

It widened within a moment, the size of its disc now something that can easily hide a horse behind it. Two people stepped out of the disc.

Loki sighed and swept red and orange leaves from his head and shoulders, his hand casually turning the chalice he was holding as he did this. Of the wound on his left arm, there was no trace of it now but the faintest of lines, even if the fabric was still rent. After that was done, he started to shake his sleeves out. Several knuckle bones came loose and lay scattered on the ground. A few smaller bones followed and the fae behind Loki was certain that he could identify it as wristbones—there weren’t that many bones on a person’s body smaller than the knuckles, but the ones of the wrist were among them.

_Hmm, I recognise that stirrup-shape smaller than a fingernail. That is from the stirrup bone in the ear_.

While the fae was amusing himself by trying to identify the detritus, the floating liquid slowly drained itself back into the container.

The Alvar tilted his head a little to let the leaves on his head fall. Their bright orange and red colours stood out starkly from the pale ground, along with Loki’s debris. Compared to his travelling companion, there were barely any bones on his person and for a good reason. He was far more meticulous in his dress than Loki—he had caught most of them earlier.

“The _rewinding winter_ ,” Loki muttered. “Out of all the paths out possible, we have to take the sky route, go through the directionless marshes and spend months _rewinding winter_.”

“It only _feels_ like months,” his companion calmly pointed out. “And yet we arrived within the same day.”

His expression belied the fact that he absolutely had distracted Loki more than once to end up taking the paths they’d just did. Not that it matters because neither of them were idiots. It didn’t take long for Loki to figure out what he was doing.

“Well, you and your relative time can both go to Hel right now.” Loki was not in a particularly good mood.

“No thanks,” he said as easily. “She’ll merely continue to ask when I will settle down—unless you’d come with me as well. I’ll let her ask you about your girlfriends instead.”

His mother had always cared about him as much as she’d cared about her own son. Loki’s answering curses only etched a wider grin on his face. The Asgardian stalked away and the Alvar followed him at a slower pace and without much thought, taking in his surroundings at leisure. His gaze was caught by the distinctive mountain standing out even against others in the same mountain range. _The Fang of Ymir_ , he thought.

There was no two ways about it; they were in Jötunheim.

_What are you up to, Coroné?_

He had given his word and he certainly would not back down from their agreement. It didn’t mean that he wouldn’t think about it. His friend wasn’t one to stop playing with fire, but the Asgardian was always wily enough to get away before he was burnt. It was difficult not to wonder if this will be one of the times when Coroné wasn’t going to land on his feet.

Ahead of him, Loki had slowed down as a short Jötunn waylaid his path. He did not bother to speed up, finding their current distance a convenient one to observe from.

The first thing he saw was the drops of blood trailed in the snow. It jarred him enough to draw his attention to the frost giant. _He has a staff—another magic wielder, I presume_. The blue giant’s expression was mostly bored than anything, never mind the claw marks over his cheek or that darkening bruise visible on his bare chest. It was the faded red eyes that brought his identity to mind.

There was not that many highly skilled sorcerers in the Nine Realms. All of them knew of the other, even if only through reputation and news.

“You certainly took your time,” Loki commented as he drew near.

“You don’t look so well, Helblindi.” The Alvar said.

“Ah, King of the Goblins, _Der Wichtkönig_ ” Helblindi replied after a second of scanning the newcomer. He could feel Helblindi’s magic pulsing out of his staff when he did so. “I’d never thought that Liesmith would manage to bring someone so…interesting.”

“It is not such a surprise. We do know each other for a long time now,” he answered, not addressing Helblindi’s implied question of just _how_ Loki brought him here at all. The three of them began to walk in the same direction Loki had been moving before.

“Apparently, not enough that he needs to visit Mimir for advice on approaching you.” The frost giant’s smile was all sharp teeth. Helblindi was more perceptive than he’d liked.

“I didn’t know that you still resort to fisticuffs.” The Alvar said instead, eyeing his bruise.

Implicit in that statement was the position that all magicians take on annoyances in their lives great and small. Especially when the annoyances are warriors who don’t like male _seidr_ wielders on principle: _really, can’t you just blast them?_

Helblindi shook his head. “I don’t, generally, but Byleistr believes in them. And here I thought I merely had an insubstantial complaint against some of his idiotic underlings.”

“Which camp was it this time?” Loki asked.

The cold steel in his sentence drew the elf’s attention.

“What does it matter? It is done with and Byleistr does not think of it as a big deal as usual,” Helblindi replied. The steady thud of his staff marked his steps.

“It must have been one on the wings, isn’t it? Was it the right or the left one? Wait, let me consider the way we’re camped out right now… Is it a camp on the southeast end or the northwest one?”

Helblindi let out an annoyed huff. “The southeast.”

“How many people are lost this time?”

Loki was unexpectedly relentless in his questioning.

For all his apparent nonchalance, it was not hard to discern that the frost giant was not any less irritated about the incident than Loki. But if their conversation continued in this vein, it was going to get harder and harder to follow. He decided to interfere right then.

“What problem did Byleistr ignore?” He asked.

Loki and Helblindi seemed to only realise just now that they had a guest in their midst as they both turned to him. He shrugged. “Unless it is something highly confidential that you would rather not talk about it in my presence.”

Which he knew it wasn’t. Loki was not that careless with secrets to have blurted it out in front of him. He’d managed to keep watch over the court of Asgard for centuries, after all.

“The people of Jötunheim, as you might have known, are divided into various tribes. Alliances are forged or broken among them.” Loki started. “Uniting many of these tribes under his banner is the Jötunn who had managed to prove himself as a warleader, the mightiest of which crowns himself the King of the Jötnar.”

“As interesting as that was, _Professor_ , I _did_ take the same lessons on statesmanship as you did. Perhaps a little less of the geography lessons and more on current events?” There. He’d toned down his jibe a lot. They have nothing to complain about it.

It still got him a bark of laughter from Helblindi and an annoyed _look_ from Loki.

“For all that Byleistr manages to march his grand army, this is still a collection of tribes,” Helblindi said, taking over from the other magician for a moment.

“Each comes with their own sets of old rivalries and alliances,” Loki added.

“And even with all that in mind, the dominant rule is still the easiest. The weak is prey to the strong.” Helblindi continued.

His attention drifted once more to the slash of claws over Helblindi’s cheek, while his thought brought up Loki’s previous questions about which camp was attacked.

“One of the tribes under Byleistr’s banner had just attacked another under yours.” He concluded.

At first, he thought the frost giant was growling, but it turned out to be a chuckle. A highly sarcastic chuckle.

“Well, it’s a ‘minor matter’ as he’d said. ‘Let them sort it out’. If it was just another tribal skirmish, I’d scarcely care. It was a raid aimed at the camp followers at the time when they knew the men would be away. They want more pretty women, they say.”

At that time, the king of the goblins had a premonition that he’d be seeing more frost giant children getting wished away into his kingdom. Purely for survival reasons.

‘-

They skirted the edge of the valley’s bowl.

At first, he’d thought they’d be heading straight down. For a sorcerer of his skill, it was hard to ignore the thrum of an active magical circle like the one carved there, its intricate runework was dense to his senses. For a land-bound like him, the way the flow of natural energy in the valley subtly shifted due to its presence was even more obvious. He could feel its presence even from the first time he stepped out of the portal.

It was the same way that a sailor would notice the presence of a whirlpool not far from his ship—the currents would tell him. The direction that his ship will naturally drift towards will tell him. All of his senses would scream at him to pay attention in its direction.

“We’re not heading to the valley?”

“Oh, that’s just the army camp,” Loki replied. “We’re going up to that hill to the north.”

He could not help but to gaze back down into the valley. If either Helblindi or Loki had decided to try fortifying that camp with magic, it was not hard to sympathise with their reasons.

‘-

“Do you know the oath that would need to be sworn?” The fae with thistledown hair asked.

Loki nodded. “I have scoured several libraries for it as well as questioned some elders. To construct one that would be most fitting based on all the examples is not difficult. It is done.”

 A large stone table stood in the middle of the clearing. In front of the tall Byleistr, it seemed almost normal-sized, especially when he sat on it without a second thought.

“And this is the best place? The ley lines—”

“Yes, this place is a major knot among their various meetings and turnings. Truly, no one can find any that will rival it unless they’d go a third of the way around the planet. Calm yourself, I am not entirely unversed on this matter.” Loki assured. “The largest issue we couldn’t handle by ourselves is contacting the _genius loci_.”

Byleistr was talking with a female Jötunn that the elf did not recognise. From the way the foot soldiers easily gave way to her and followed her orders, she commanded not a little respect. Her staff was hung with various fetishes on it, and the same can be said of her belt. It was not difficult to determine that she was a reasonably powerful witch.

“Is everyone aware that this will not be quick?” The elf asked again. “If someone ruins the ritual several hours in, we may have to start all over again.”

“Yes,” came the reply. “Byleistr actually has a modicum of sense, and any possible idiocy on the part of his underlings have been guarded against. They know to stay away and keep their mouth shut.”

“Well, I’ll leave the rest of the preparations to you, then.”

That was when he noticed the granite mortar in his hands and his eyes widened with some disbelief. A simple granite bowl? Loki should’ve said something more before they left. He’d have remembered to bring his own tools if he’d known the scale of the undertaking. His task would be the hardest, the one none of them had managed so far—contacting the _genius loci_. Helblindi stood to his other side, an old bronze cup held in his hand.

“If you want to use that measly stone bowl for the ritual, go ahead. In that case, I’ll use this highly convenient artefact for my own purposes.”

With a sigh, he extended his hand to the short Jötunn. Helblindi handed the chalice without a thought. A glance showed him that it was empty, even if not completely cleaned of blood. Some remaining blood would actually be appreciated, because that meant he did not have to contribute that much of his own power. But to get an empty _and dirty_ cup was unbelievable. He furrowed his brows.

“I can’t believe it’s empty”

“The Liesmith was the one who used it last. Address all complaints towards him,” Helblindi stopped him from going on. He turned to the dark-haired magician.

“An unloaded vessel, _really?_ ” He asked.

“You took us through the _sky route_ and _rewinding winter_ ,” Loki replied. “It _certainly_ cost a lot to find one’s way through it.”

In other words, he was saying ‘ _not my bloody fault’_.

“If you were a better hand at wayfinding, you would not have wasted so much magic.” He jabbed.

“I didn’t see you volunteering with the marsh lights, Tyto” Loki replied.

“Why would you need help with marsh lights?” Helblindi asked, baffled. He couldn’t resist agreeing with the Jötunn right there.

“You would wonder too, wouldn’t you? Marsh lights aren’t that troublesome.”

The Asgardian rolled his eyes.

“ _Coroné, we have a cluster of will-o-the-wisp behind us_. _Coroné, some of them are reanimating the corpses_. _Coroné, I’ll leave it to you to take care of the_ accursed _undead_ _company; you can wake me up when you’re done_.” The Asgardian managed a pitch perfect imitation of his companion’s disinterested drawl, ending it with a cold glare at him.

“I miscalculated,” he replied flippantly. “They weren’t even the size of a large company.”

In his defence, he _knew_ Loki could take them down. What was a couple of rotting skeleton compared to the first magician of Asgard? What was a hundred shambling skeletons? It was not as if they were highly coordinated with the intelligence of a necromancer behind them. Generally brainless, he’d taken at least ten of them down on one hit just by lobbing a small boulder in a straight line.

Helblindi glanced between the two of them, clearly wondering about what exactly happened in their journey. In the end, he merely put aside his curiosity and stepped in before the argument escalated.

“In any case, it will not be much of a problem. Whatever cost you must pay up front, you can recoup from the excess magic that will be overflowing from the _genius loci_ afterwards.” The frost giant said.

“Traditionally, the land-bound would have taken all that magic in into his or herself,” he pointed out. “Who would want to waste such great surge of power? Much less to give it to someone else.”

A smirk grew on Helblindi’s face and it was almost exactly mirrored by Loki. Clearly, they knew something he didn’t.

“Let me ask you this question. How many of the land-bound are barely untrained in magic?” Loki asked.

That gave him pause, even as he turned around and observed the King of the Jötnar from this distance. He was the perfect picture of a frost giant warrior, rippling muscles as solid as stone, his greatsword by his side. The witch he’d seen earlier had gone away to manage something else for now. In her place was a crowd of women vying for the king’s attention. The Alvar returned his attention to his fellow magicians, in their own corner from the rest of the frost giants. It would seem that since none of the magicians were weaker ones that were easily threatened or bullied, much less when there were more than one of them, everyone would rather pretend that they weren’t there at all.

It would have been hilarious if he wasn’t already bored by it within half a millennium.

“Byleistr has absolutely no idea about it, does he?” He finally asked.

“Beyond the grand idea of having the power of a genius loci to back you? No, not at all.” Helblindi answered, black humour running underneath his words. Loki was similarly opportunistic.

“If he has no use for magic, we might as well help ourselves to it.”

‘-

The blood of three magicians mingled in the chalice, rendering it closer to some mysterious brown fluid.

The Alvar held back his sigh.

_It comes down to blood magic once more, doesn’t it?_

No matter how distasteful it seemed, it was an ancient artefact all the same. They tend to be a little traditional in how they worked, usually because the civilisation it came from was unaware of the more high-level magical manipulation that can be done. As such, there was no practical way around it but to use blood as a medium.

He would rather not leave his blood in the hands of anyone else, but considering that Helblindi and Loki had taken the same risk by exposing their blood to him, they were more or less even.

None of them would be stupid enough to use the other’s blood to work any malicious magic. The counterattack would be just as vicious. In that direction lay mutually assured destruction.

The cup was in his hands, as he had the hardest task to accomplish. Loki was in front of Byleistr with a silver knife at hand and the stone bowl placed on the stone table in front of him, ready to initiate the oath when he received the sign. From where the stone bowl stood to where the chalice lay on the snow was a trail of blood connecting them. Helblindi was right behind him, keeping an eye on the ritual’s entire field to ensure that all proceeded as planned. Considering that it was Helblindi that they were talking about, perhaps keeping a hand on things were more appropriate than eye, but the end result was the same; he was a vigilant observer.

Loki would have directly channelled his magic into the chalice. He, on the other hand, did not habitually practice free-form magic and he had a good reason for it. His fine control on raw magic was never too good, and with the amount of power on his fingertips, failures usually meant explosions. He’d figured out a convenient modification for himself when he was younger, ignoring the exasperated teachers who was convinced that he wasn’t suited to magic at all.

A crystal ball appeared in his hands.

As he continued to channel his magic into it, it began to glow brighter and brighter. He’d closed his eyes now even as he continued to roll the ball between his hands, feeling their balance and whether he’d pushed in enough. _Just a little more…_

He dropped the crystal ball into the blood.

The chalice hummed into life and rose slightly into the air, its contents alight. It was in the middle of its own circle of blood. With both of his hand placed to its side and his eyes closed, he could feel power flowing over from the chalice and into the blood sigils etched on the ground, continuing all the way to the blood circle containing the stone bowl between Loki and Byleistr.

He carefully regulated his breathing, slowing it down ever so slightly and slowing his heart as a result. He could feel the large river of natural magic deep below the ground from the moment the chalice was active. Yet to be able to hear the planet’s _genius loci_ was on a different level. Its massive size and lack of contact with the surface meant that it moved at an even slower pace than the planet’s magical veins. For an Alvar to reach that speed was a near impossibility.

For a land-bound, it wasn’t hard.

The cost was, he could not reach the land spirit as a mere Alvar. He would have to reach it as a land bound. His position as king was less useful here than his post as _Keeper of the Labyrinth_. To become the Keeper, he would need to remember his castle not as a home, but as his heart. There was an additional spark of fire there, an unexpected warmth he wondered about for a moment before he remembered that Sarah was currently there. _How could I forget?_ He would need to remember the feel of changing seasons upon his surface (skin(face)), the feel of people trading along his rivers (veins). He would need to be indivisible from his land spirit for at least one moment.

He would need to become the Labyrinth itself.

When he opened his eyes, he was no longer at the surface. It was dark, but it was not an uncomfortable form of darkness in the same way that his bedroom with the lights out was still familiar territory. Under the surface was also warmer than above it. The soft sounds of the ley lines, the rivers of magic, was closer here, but they seemed not as immense as before. Each was closer in sound to a small brook. He was not fooled by the impressions, though—the ley line had not gone smaller, he had merely become larger. Still, there was no one around. _Not here_ , he mused, and moved away. The earth parted for him and slid with ease.

The presence of another _genius loci_ was usually enough to poke a land spirit’s curiosity, but there might also be the possibility that he wasn’t close enough yet. Thus, he glided farther and deeper, slipping through the earth almost as easily as swimming. It did not take long before he heard a susurrus of scales. A long snout with the breath of winter met him, the glint of ice drew his eyes to its elongated claws. The entire length of its body wasn’t even visible in this odd gloom.

A slight cock of head was already a question for him.

( _Who_ ( _what_ ( _why_ ( _hello_ ))))

His reply was an almost similar tilt of his head (snout). The great wyrm in front of him gave a slight nod in understanding. He supposed it was rather calming to be a land spirit as their language may be complicated and weighted with a thousand subtle signs, but it makes communicating everything very quick. Just now he’d conveyed the currently-progressing land-binding/little-people-binding ritual, who was involved and why he was here. There was also a little technical discussion about binding oaths. The land spirit was understanding of his presence.

_Up?_ The _genius loci_ of Jötunheim asked him, having learned enough of the Allspeak from him for now.

_Yes. Up_.

With that, they ascended once more to the land of the little people. It will be interesting to see a new civilisation. It will certainly be easier to understand them when their delegate volunteered to keep in touch with you and explain all the details to you, he mused. All those different civilisations have their own funny quirks. They have to learn so many things and they usually get things wrong first before figuring out the better path. A few thousands usually die on the way of wars or diseases, but it’s not too much of a concern when your herd is large.

_Yes,_ the _genius loci_ of Jötunheim heard his thoughts very clearly. _It sounds fascinating to be at the surface once more, isn’t it?_

The Alvar that is currently also a _genius loci_ shook his head and tried to remember that he was an Alvar and also _King of the Goblins_ and not just _Keeper of the Labyrinth_ (or the Labyrinth itself).

How long has he been a _genius loci?_ No matter. He was sure that his mind would settle itself once he separated from his partner.

‘-

After he successfully bid farewell (for now) to the Labyrinth and ascended up into consciousness, it was already night-time. Torches and lantern have been brought out and he could feel a blanket draped over his form. The skies look too wide right now, instead of approachable in a leap or two. The frost giants seem too large for something so insignificant.

He shook his head. That was the _genius loci_ speaking.

“Was it finished yet?” He asked. His throat felt dry.

“Just now,” Helblindi answered. There was an earthen cup in his hand that he twisted twice before handing it to the elf. He accepted it with grace and a small ‘thank you’. The drink was cool, not exactly at a warming temperature but he was fine with it. At least it wasn’t frozen.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t know that frost giant temperature ran much cooler than the other races—Helblindi probably forgot that he wasn’t one.

“We were never certain how the manifestation will occur. Byleistr was starting to become impatient and disbelieving. It was a good thing that Loki had predicted and explained beforehand that it can take more than three hours, or he would lose his patience much earlier. Byleistr was arguing when the ground erupted right behind him. They finished the ritual right there, with the oath Silvertongue had constructed.” The frost giant explained.

No wonder the stone table was empty now. The guards around the hilltop were also desultory instead of vigilant.

He huffed in disbelief. “It didn’t even take that long.”

Helblindi was amused. “We had been waiting for five hours. If the cup and the lines hadn’t been glowing all this time, no one would be sure that anything was happening.”

_Ah, well…_ different time spans, he supposed.

“So, it’s official now?”

“Yes. Byleistr is the land bound of Jötunheim.”

_Norns help us_ , he thought, but didn’t say. In general, the greater Nine Realms wasn’t his concern. He couldn’t care less about them the same way most couldn’t care less about him. It wasn’t as if it the frost giants would reach his borders either. Yet there was still something he had always watched for, that was his responsibility to watch for.

“Allblind. I’ve said this before to Coroné and I’ll say this to you too. Will you ever bring forth Fimbulwinter?”

It was a grave question to ask to anyone, even a frost giant. Still, the weight of his voice spoke of his seriousness. Helblindi stared at him strangely as he answered.

“Certainly not. What would I get from the end of the world?”

“Some people would like to watch the world freeze, shrivel and die. They revel in destruction.”

“Those people are lunatics,” Helblindi answered. There was a hard finality to his tone. The fae king accepted his position.

“Very well, then.”

“Why is it your concern?”

“Because I will hunt those people down to the ends of the world, tear their entrails out and perhaps even take the time to perform the blood eagle on them. Maybe I’d still add a quartering to that. This I would do even if it was someone I know. Perhaps even more so, if it was someone I know.” He replied with ease. That ruthlessness was certainly the _Wichtkönig_ speaking more than Tyto or his usual self that preferred to be a reclusive fae.

Helblindi merely nodded in understanding. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

‘-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what I’m looking forward to writing at this point? A four-way argument verging into a fight in The Two Queens. You could easily guess who the participants are. Next chapter isn’t that yet, though.
> 
> Since we're finally, _finally_ back to the main arc, I'll slow down my update speed once more, probably somewhere between two or four weeks if my health didn't hit the crapper again. I've run down on the number of reserve chapters and I'm once more trying to decide where to go next in the story.
> 
> _The blood eagle_ is an uncomfortable way to die. There are doubts that it has ever really been used as a torture-and-execution method, as the shock from the blood loss probably set in faster after you start cracking people’s ribs from the spine and breaking them open through their back (generating the bone ‘wings’ of the blood eagle). That can easily kill someone before you’ve managed to do the rest of the procedure. It looks impressive on paper, but doesn’t really give the slow and painful death that it would seem at a glance.
> 
> Of course, all bets are off if we’re talking about people with godlike physical abilities…they might still be breathing until the end. Yikes.
> 
> ‘-
> 
> The Rather Random Ramblings:
> 
> **_Company_ :** (military) a military unit usually sized around 80-250 soldiers (referring to Wikipedia here. Personally, I only remembered it as ‘a hundred-ish’). Typically lead by a captain/major, though I’m sure the spontaneous undead company weren’t even trying to band together, their instincts is just to mob people. It’s actually not a new invention as even the Roman army has it; what do you think a centurion is? A guy who’s at the head of 100 people—it’s in the name. 
> 
> The modern form of the company, however, is popularised by the legendary _Gustavus Adolphus_ (King Gustav II of Sweden). Tory Lewis has probably gone on at length about his military genius to Darcy that she’d vaguely know about him at the point (knowledge osmosis in action!)
> 
> **_Dark Web_ :** (Networking/Information System) A part of the deep web that requires special software, configurations and/or authorisations to access. You probably can’t open the sites here just relying on Chrome or Firefox. You’d have to use Tor Browser at the very least. It’s the deeper deep web.
> 
> **_Deep Web_ :** (Networking/Information System) The part of the World Wide Web that is not indexed by search engines/can’t be reached through links from search results. Unlike the dark web, as long as you know the address, you can still open pages in the deep web through a normal browser.
> 
> **_DDoS Attack_ :** (Computing) Distributed Denial of Service Attack. An attack over the internet to a website (or any other host) on the world wide web by flooding it with false requests, overloading its capacity and taking it down, and thus denying rightful users from being able to access said website (or host). 
> 
> The attacker usually gets the capacity by employing a mass of security-compromised computers dancing to its tune. This is the (slaved) botnet. Recently, it has gotten worse because they don’t need to even compromise a computer, just appliances with crappy security that’s connected to the internet (the Internet of Things, IoT). An internet-capable camera, internet-capable printer, internet-capable baby monitor, all with shoddy firmware comes to mind. (Most people don’t even bother putting passwords on those stuff, or changing it from the default password).
> 
> **_Magi_ :** Plural of the English word ‘mage’ or ‘magus’. From Latin ‘magi’. Yeah, the alternate title it’s a rather bad pun on the ‘Three Wise Men’ on my part. 
> 
> **_Wichtkönig_ :** (German) Literally, ‘Wight-King’. This is actually something I came up with when trying to interpret (as opposed to give a literal translation of) the title Goblin King. Yes, this is Tyto’s actual title and it is completely intentional on my part.
> 
> ‘-


	43. XLIII. Breakfast and Scouts (Some Bad News)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Darcy’s breakfast date with Avaldi. Darcy figures out fire giants and Surtr. She is definitely the Bearer of Bad News. Loki gets some unpleasant news as well from the Master of Scouts._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To anyone who commented that needed replying and that I've yet to reply to, my apologies. RL is getting hectic right now and I'm scrambling to do everything at once.

### XLIII. Breakfast and Scouts (Some Bad News)

Darcy woke up with the feeling of being swindled and wanting to rail against the world.

_Can’t be a hangover. I didn’t even drink that much_. Or more correctly, she felt like she had been munching most of the night that there was barely much space for alcohol.

She groaned and pulled the blanket over her head. It majorly sucked to open her eyes in the morning and feeling barely refreshed at all. Her eyes were bleary and her head was still heavy. Maybe it was the bad news she’d been getting throughout the night, one after another. Maybe it was her unsettling dream where she _voluntarily_ left her own club to go to _Jötunheim_ out of all places. _What the hell is that girl thinking? Must be crazier than I thought._

Which was kinda sad considering that she was talking about herself. Some version of herself that was living the dream (har har), sure. It was still a little depressing to realise it meant a part of her was _that_ reckless… Why couldn’t she be happy to keep running the club like she did in the previous dreams? All the messes her staff got into were usually pretty entertaining.

She sat up.

_Who on earth ever heard of a continuing dream as normal?_

She was pretty sure that the background chatter from her very first dream in the set was about new people on the block that were basically blue giants. In _this_ dream, the frost giants were a clear threat to the established gangs in the city—so much that the government wanted to intervene. There was also something something Avengers Initiative something? Did Thor ever mention if his brother can walk into dreams? She was half certain she’d heard something like that from somewhere.

Darcy ran around the room in a frenzied search for pen and paper. Loki dumped her into a magical pool in a dream _and suddenly she has magic inside her even in the real world_. She vaguely remembered his explanations about it too.

She would bet her left hand that her current dream wasn’t exactly _nothing_.

Also, _Jötunheim_. If she could write down her memories and images fast enough, maybe she could even figure out what the _fuck_ he was doing on that iceball from the clues in her dreams.

This was why when Malmury knocked on Darcy’s door, the Midgardian was already dressed and running, sheaves of papers at hand and writing at top speed. She certainly surprised her lady-in-waiting.

“Good morning! It’s good to see that you’re here, Malmury.” Darcy greeted.

“Good morning, My Lady?”

“Can you show me where the library is? I want to look up a couple of stuff. Also, please send this message to Avaldi. It’s basically just me asking him to look for me there.”

She was surprised by the request for the library, but she was even more surprised by the last one.

“Um, Avaldi?”

“Yes, Avaldi. The fire giant ambassador? That guy?”

“I’m sorry, but why…?”

“Because we had a morning date, of course. I don’t want the poor guy to have to look for me around her or even getting lost while looking around,” Darcy replied cheerfully. “That wouldn’t be romantic at all, would it?”

She pretended she didn’t see Malmury paling at her answer.

“Your hand…your hand isn’t even healed yet.” The handmaiden said.

“Ah well, it’s not as bad as it looks. I might as well consider it a practise for love bites, right? Man, I wonder if there’s a way to prevent tongue burn. Just being able to lick once or twice is really no fun.”

Darcy was blabbing this without much thought as she continued to write or doodle more and more details about her dreams (and sometimes even about her past dreams). As a result, she hadn’t looked up until a few moments had passed and saw that freckles really do stand out on a pale face, and that Malmury was so speechless she just had to sit down.

_Wait, what did I just say? Hmm, it’s probably just the idea of dating fire giants that surprises the Aesir, right? Yeah, that’s probably it_ , she thought distractedly. Darcy piled up all her hurried notes together before she beamed at the handmaiden.

“So! The library awaits!”

‘-

From his expression, it was clear that Avaldi had a hard time understanding why she was in the library.

“What can you gain from these old books?” He’d asked. “Nothing here is actually news.”

Darcy turned around and find herself fighting hard to hold her breath. She would not laugh at the sight of a fire giant with a picnic basket. _She wouldn’t_. He was even dressed rather smartly, albeit still with more layers than she thought was necessary. She desperately took a deep breath before speaking.

“Ah, you’re here! Morning, Avaldi.”

He grumbled out something that could vaguely be construed as a reply to her greeting. She picked up a book or two that she wanted to borrow, along with the sheaves of notes about her dreams.

“Well, we can talk about what I was looking for while we have breakfast.”

Like last night, she was wearing opera gloves all the way up to her arms. Since she was considering heat resistance and not just aesthetics, the dress she was wearing had many leather components in them. Not that she minded looking like she’d just walked out of a steampunk convention; she still thought she looked pretty cool. Avaldi remembered to offer his hand to her this time as he escorted her. Before Malmury can follow them, Darcy assured her that she was fine, that she can get Avaldi to drop her at her suite later and really, had she even had breakfast yet?

“Really, I’m safe. I mean, who would threaten me when I’m in the company of a _fire giant_?” Darcy asked.

Her obviously-still-doubtful handmaiden didn’t answer, but she finally relented and agreed to have her own breakfast.

Borrowing the books out of the library was an easy process. They even gave her a book bag when they saw all the stuff she was carrying. She and Avaldi ambled out of the library arm-in-arm, in the direction that she supposed the Western Orchards were laid out at. Several hallways later, the fire giant sighed.

“Do I really have to take your arm?”

“But it’s _romantic_!” She answered in a mock breathless voice.

He was gazing heavenwards now. “We can be romantic _later_. In the orchards.”

She lowered her voice. “But I bet there aren’t that many people in the orchards, but many more who would’ve seen us on the way there.”

“Come on lover boy, this isn’t even the most romantic we could get. I could even hug your arm and lean against you while walking. That’s pretty close to honeymoon-in-Paris level of smitten. This is _standard_. Might as well do this all the way there.”

She didn’t imagine the look of dismay on his face.

“Absolutely _not_.”

“Why not?” She asked with all innocence.

“This is bad enough. We cannot possibly move faster than a snail’s pace this way! It will not be breakfast that we’d have when we arrive—it will be a luncheon.” He complained.

Darcy couldn’t help but laugh.

“I know. I was just waiting for you to complain.” She said. She wiggled her eyebrows for good measure. His sheer disbelief was worth the ache of keeping an innocent expression all this time.

“You! Urgh, why… how… _woman!_ ”

“Hey, I’ve got to get my fun from somewhere.” The brunette patted his arm in consolation.

“You’re a headache and a half.” Avaldi stated. “I pity the man who has to actually court you.”

“Hey, don’t diss it until you try it.”

“No, thank you, I’ll save my sanity instead.”

Darcy casually unlinked their arms. “There you go. Just let me put my books in the picnic basket.”

He did not look amused.

“Come on, you’re a _fire giant_.” She wheedled. “You’re going to have a longer stride than me and you’re definitely stronger than me. I wouldn’t be able to keep up with you with _all_ the stuff I’m carrying right now. Pity the poor weak human.”

He muttered something to the tone of ‘ _why do you even have to carry them all in the first place_ ’, but for all his bad mood, he still allowed her to place the two books in the basket.

‘-

The Western Orchard does seem to be filled with hardy trees—none of them looked particularly delicate. Yet even with that in mind, Avaldi’s eyes went past all the delicious fruiting trees that were beautiful with their ripe colours. He didn’t pay much attention to the groves with flowers either. What caught his interest was the odd oak-covered hills or two.

_Why oaks?_ She had asked.

_Because they’re sturdy, proper trees_ , he answered with some confusion, as if the reason should’ve been obvious. He went on about how he wasn’t looking forward to sitting under a skinny tree with frail branches that can snap and hit him on the head at any time. And fruits usually mean caterpillars; not that he was afraid of them, but getting rained on by caterpillars were certain to screw up anyone’s enjoyment. He said all this while they were making good time towards the hill.

“Wow, that didn’t even cross my mind,” Darcy had said.

He nodded. “I can see that you are not that used to the country.”

“Yeah. I’m pretty much a city person.”

Avaldi was a frank and practical person. He might not give a damn about aesthetics, yet she found his down-to-earth view as just another weird but strangely cute aspect of him. Not that the fire giant was going to happy if he ever heard her call him _cute_.

The spread out the rug over the grass and Avaldi passed on food item by food item. There were pies as hot as if they’d just came out of the oven and warm soups. There was a ring of braided whole grain bread that Avaldi only lifted a little before he dropped it back into the basket— _was that something he was saving for himself?_ Well, she wasn’t going to bug him about it, even if it were. Everyone needs their snacks. There were three types of drinks, all of which were hot, packed in containers with what she thought was probably magic. The dessert was a cobbler and a compote, also hot. She distributed plates, cups and other eating utensils between them.

That was when Darcy realised that a fire giant’s higher body temperature meant that the food temperature they preferred was probably not the same as many other races. It didn’t really matter that much to her—she could wait for her food to cool a little before eating. He seemed to notice after a while that she ate at a slower pace than he did.

“Does the food not agree with you?” He asked.

She gave him a frank answer.

“It’s still too hot for my tongue.” She saw the way his eyes widened, and she could see the beginnings of the almost universal _oh-shit_ expression. Darcy shook her head with a smile.

“Nah, it’s not a big deal, I can wait.”

“Still, it was wrong of me.”

“Well, nobody can get _everything_ right. That’s just unreasonable.”

He shook his head. “It merely meant that I have not planned enough. Sif will find fault in my preparation and our duel would be delayed further until I perfect it.”

Realising that his main concern was _still_ in getting Sif to seriously fight him, Darcy laughed. Say what you want about that guy, but he was determined and dedicated when it was something he cared about. It was a satisfactory breakfast for everyone and Darcy didn’t hesitate to dig in. Eating in the open air with the scent of dried grass and crisp autumn leaves was a great experience. _When was the last time that I ate outside?_ The sad answer to that question was probably waay before she’d started working with Jane.

It was relaxing to feel the wind on her face.

Then, Darcy let out a long sigh.

_Well_ , she thought, _it was a nice break while it lasted_. Now, it was time to get back to business.

She reached out for the picnic basket and took the two books she’d stashed there. Afterwards, she started taking out the pages of her dream notes. Avaldi was watching all this curiously as he finished off another helping of dessert while Darcy decided to pause and let her stomach settle down for now.

“So, I got some updates on the state of Nine Realms last night,” she began. “I saw you going around too, so I’m sure you’re not lacking in interesting news. We both might be able to get a wider view if we pooled our perspectives together.”

“In case you failed to notice, most Aesir or Vanir does not really have good relations with the giants.” His reply was dry.

“Yes, but not _all_. Not to mention that earth is really just starting out right now. Also, there’s still the _elves_.”

A snort. “None bother to understand the elves. It is only necessary to know enough to deal with them.”

“Why not?”

“No one _sane_ would.” He replied with a shake of his head. “Their minds run at a different time-span than most. Some has simply forgotten or lost any care for the Here and Now. Some have become…twisty, and not in a good way. It would be far too easy to drive yourself into madness trying to follow their thoughts.”

“Ah, I heard about that from Bragi too.” _About how some are not Here, that is. I had no idea about the driving-yourself-insane part if you try to understand them_.

That surprised Avaldi. “You did? Ah, I understand. Yes, he’d _certainly_ know. Many elves of the generation above him are still the ones sent to the Allthing, even when I think it would be better if they retire and was replaced by the younger ones.”

“I don’t think they’re senile, though.”

Avaldi clucked his tongue. “They’re not senile, merely Not Here.”

“The spirit-bound ones, huh?”

The fire giant gave a casual glance around them before lowering his voice to answer. “They’re already closer to spirit themselves than us, if you ask me.”

Darcy took his words to heart but said nothing else, still mulling over it. As someone who’d grown up on earth without any trace of magic around her, aspects of this completely different world sometimes still took a while to digest.

“Thanks for the tip. If I have to describe one of the heaviest topic I talked about last night, it would be _Fimbulwinter_.”

She was not surprised at the piercing blue eyes that stared her down at those words. Where the Muspell had been lounging with his back to an oak tree, he had sat straighter now.

“Who said that?”

Darcy took a deep breath. This was where the road forks. This was where she had to check. _Here goes nothing_.

“Well, before I go on with this, I have to say that I’m still new to Nine Realms, alright? So, I don’t know all the other kingdoms yet. Pardon me, but I really have to ask this because of that. Does any Muspellir wish for the arrival of Fimbulwinter?”

If she thought he’d been serious before, she was sure that his red face had just gotten redder. Was it just her, or was his eyes also _glowing_? The way he was clenching his hands into fists was _not_ good news.

“You…you dare to even—”

“I don’t know, okay? I’m seriously asking you because I don’t know anything—and everyone knows that there are kingdoms in Muspelheim, right? I also have no idea about the principalities there, and they can’t _all_ have the same opinion on everything.” _Inhale, Darcy, inhale_. She need to try to outtalk him with sheer speed, because she certainly can’t outfight him and outrunning him was a pain in the legs.

“Heck, the frost giants have the dozens and dozens of _tribes_ —”

“The frost giants are more foolish than the fire giants,” Avaldi replied with a roll of his eyes. She felt that she can breathe easier as he stood down.

“Still…”

“Are you even aware of what happens in Fimbulwinter?

“The cold death of the universe?” Darcy hazarded a guess.

“Precisely!” He growled.  “Most of Asgard is not even of an agreeable warmth for a fire giant, why would I want to _freeze the world_? Why would any Muspellir be so happily suicidal as to wish for _winter?_ ”

“I have no idea,” Darcy murmured softly.

“We will be among the first to stand against Fimbulwinter. That, is even in the Third Treaty of the Nine Realms, which you would know if you had read it before asking me such a thoughtless question.”

For all his rashness so far, the gravity with which he regarded Darcy’s questions put his mien in a noble light. He did not let rage cloud him this time, even with all his anger. It was in moments like this that she could see how Avaldi and Geilir son of Surtr were cousins. She didn’t like the slight disappointment she could see in his azure eyes.

“I’m sorry. It’s just… I’m thrown here with not enough knowledge and no back up, and time is running out. Not just for me, but for everyone. I have to make snap decisions and they won’t all be right.”

She met his gaze straight on, choosing her words carefully before she said them.

“My apologies, Avaldi. I have no intention to accuse you or the Muspellir of anything. I only had one true question I wished to ask and that was it. There was no other meaning to it.”

“Well, you have your answer,” his reply was gruff. “Was it what you were looking for?”

Darcy didn’t like the formality that had begun to seep into their interaction again.

“The only earth source I know about fire giants are from the _Prose Edda_ , and that they’d come with flaming swords when Fimbulwinter occurred. It doesn’t give any hint of the Third Treaty of the Nine Realms that you spoke of.”

He shook his head. “Ah, _that_ one. I may not always have a head for history, but I suppose that was before the treaty was even done. There was no love lost between the Aesir and the Muspellir for all the small wars that periodically broke out between Muspelheim and Asaheim. I am not surprised if they would have recorded it that way at that time. The truth is, if Fimbulwinter was indeed nigh, then even Surtr himself would awaken from his slumber and march forth to fight.” Avaldi watched her reaction. Seeing that she was not that impressed, he decided to explain further.

“In case you did not understand, his marching is a very big deal indeed, unlike the march of any other Muspell.”

“Um, why would it be a big deal?”

He met her gaze, his disbelief was clearly warring with impatience. “Because he’s a land-bound.”

“Yes, but from what I understood of the elves, Vethrfölnir is a spirit-bound. Heck, _Tyr_ is a spirit-bound, and I haven’t heard of any trouble he might have in going around.” Darcy said.

“Because the spirit he is bound to is the spirit of the _sun_ of Muspell. This is why he’s not usually involved in the day-to-day ruling of Muspelheim. My cousin Geilir is truly the King of Muspelheim for all practical purposes. If Surtr were to walk without carefully controlling himself in Asgard, he will burn away the space of a _whole city_ around him. It does not matter if the building is of stone or obsidian or titanium. I doubt that any magician’s circle can erect a powerful enough ward against a _genius loci_.”

He snapped his fingers. “A whole city turned into ash and cinders. Just like that.”

Darcy did not even pretend that she wasn’t gaping.

“It would be as if a meteor had struck and exploded. If he failed to restrain himself over a large enough inhabited area, one can contend that there will be enough death and destruction to rouse the _genius loci_ of Asgard. I shudder at the thought of a clash between them, certainly rending earth and gouging mountains. I do not want to imagine another possibility that Tyr may be nearby and that he would be the Eagle of the Tree in trying to stop Surtr. The amount of destruction will not be much better.”

“That is certainly something no one wants.” His voice was softer even though it was no less serious.

_Holy freaking shit_.

“Our High King has a palace on the sun. That is where he resides, most of the time.” Avaldi said this as if it was really no big deal. “Most of his visitors are magicians, or the people in the company of a magician. The surface of the sun is still beyond the comfortable range of heat that most fire giants can withstand.”

‘-

“Who did you hear about Fimbulwinter from?”

Avaldi brought himself to ask after a while, after he thought he’d allowed Darcy enough time to think.

“Why?”

“There are so many possible signs for it that it is not impossible for someone to have gotten it wrong.”

She got the feeling that he was trying to assuage his own worries. Unfortunately, she didn’t really have any good news on that front.

“It was from an Alvar that’s an old friend of Bragi’s; Vethrfölnir the Hawk, Watcher of the Skies.” She said, trying her best to remember some of his titles. “He said he’d seen some of the signs personally when he was on flight over earth. Considering that he’s one of the older spirit-bound who doesn’t exactly ‘see’ like things the way most people do…well, yeah, I’m concerned.”

“Élivágar take you,” Avaldi cursed. He was covering his face with his hands. “It has to be Vethrfölnir out of all people.”

“What about him?”

He clasped his hands together. Worry clearly drew lines on his forehead that she could see.

“As you have said yourself, he’s a spirit-bound. He is not exactly ‘anyone’. If the Alvar have such important news to bear, why did they not inform us of it last night?” Too unsettled to sit still, the Muspell had stood up and started to walk back and forth.

“Maybe they still want to make sure of the news and not jump to conclusions. If it’s as important as you’ve said, the last thing they’d need would be for people to panic, right?” Darcy asked.

“Yet everyone needs to know about Fimbulwinter!” He insisted.

She huffed, leaning back a little from his raised voice. She knew that Bragi wasn’t trying to keep it a secret from everyone, not at all. It was just…she tried to sort out Bragi’s apparent position as well as Veth’s from all their talks. He had his reasons, but it was not one that immediately came to her mind right now. One of her hands was raised to pause the conversation; she didn’t have any answers yet and wanted to think through for a moment.

At first, she had second thoughts about giving Avaldi (and as a consequence, the fire giants) further insights into the workings of the Nine Realms. Yet considering that he and the Muspellir behind him seem to be vehemently opposed to Fimbulwinter and highly focused on preventing it. If that was truly so, she supposed there wasn’t much harm in providing him with this information, as they’re not going to be interested in politicking for now or taking advantage of the chaos to do something stupid like attacking Asgard.

“You did say that you didn’t talk to a lot of Aesir or Vanir last night, right?” Darcy started.

“Yes.”

“Well, did you at least observe them?”

“Oh, yes I did. There are the usual expressions of ‘oh, they truly invited the fire giants’ as well as ‘I wish they would not come here.’” He answered dryly.

Darcy had inferred from the occasional conversation she overheard during the feast that some fire giants have a habit of raiding into Vanaheim or Asgard. The raiders weren’t many, but their reputation were enough to stain all fire giants by association.

Darcy huffed.

“Oh, you know what I mean, Avaldi. Did you observe the way the Aesir and Vanir interacted with each other last night?”

He snorted. “Why should I care?”

Darcy did not hold back from glaring at him, never mind that she was sitting down. “ _Of course_ , you should care. You’re an ambassador, dammit! Everyone’s relations with everyone else has to become your business! How else would you figure out whether the change in a friendship or rivalry will provide an opportunity for Muspelheim?”

Avaldi might grumble at that, but he could not fault her argument. She felt a teeny tiny bit guilty because she had a feeling she was also desperately trying to forget some rather morbid explanation from a cheery, petite elven lady about magic involving flesh cutting and grafting. It was her own fault for asking her for a detailed explanation, to be honest.

“Since you weren’t exactly observing them that closely, I guess you missed the tensions beneath the surface.” She said. “Do you know why the Allthing was called this time?”

“Frey called it,” he answered with a dismissive shrug.

“To call Odin into account.” She added.

“Yes, so?”

She stood up and walked all the way to his side to gently pull him down again. Watching him walk back and forth was going to give her a headache sooner or later, not to mention the crick in her neck from having to stare all the way up. He didn’t complain and followed suit. They sat next to each other this time, certainly looking like a pair with romantic interests in each other for anyone looking at them from a distance.

“Did you read the details of that? Basically, it boils down to how it looks like Frey is doubting Odin’s competence in leading in the last half of century.” Darcy asked in a low tone. Anyone trying to eavesdrop would have been too far to hear either of them clearly.

He snorted. “We doubted Odin’s ability every other century and wondered if someone else will be better off being the Allfather. Everyone always have a complaint if you ask them. It does not mean that they would do anything about it. There’s nothing new here.”

“But the Muspellir are not the Vanir. No offence, but your reputation is not that stellar and most people don’t exactly look up to you.”

“That’s not something new either.” He muttered.

“No, urgh.” Darcy was rubbing her temples now. She changed tack. “Look, what are the three strongest people of the Nine Realms? The Aesir, the Vanir and the Alvar, right?”

“The Jötnar has historically been strong,” Avaldi countered.

“But they made enemies of too many people and they’re even more fractured than the Muspellir.” Darcy replied.

He grudgingly nodded. The brunette continued. “So, it all comes down to those three again, never mind that they’re larger than the Vanir or Alvar. Now, again, I don’t really know the Nine Realms that well because I just got here and we don’t exactly have a lot of information on earth about this place. From what I heard, one of Tyr’s title is Lord of Justice. Is that right?”

“The Lawgiver, the Lord of Justice, the Even-handed. Yes, those are among his titles.”

“So, he’s like this neutral dude who doesn’t take sides, right?”

“Yes. He maintains balance in the Nine Realms. You might not like him, but at least you can be sure that your enemies dislike him just as much.” Avaldi said. “People are comfortable now with Tyr’s disinterest of almost everything and everyone.”

_That’s a weird thing to be comfortable with_ , she mused.

“So, Frey is calling Odin into account. You don’t think the Aesir would take the Vanir’s sudden apparent distrust lying down, do you?”

Avaldi’s expression turned thoughtful at that. “You are right. The Aesir are a prideful lot. It would not be explicit, but it would still feel like an insult all the same.”

“Who knows what Frey and Odin thinks—their poker faces are way, _waay_ beyond my paygrade and I won’t even bother trying to figure them out,” Darcy said. “But trying to get a read on the people who follow them, of the more run-of-the-mill Aesir and Vanir, _that_ I can do. I’ve been observing them all night and there’s serious tension between them. At least one serious fight had broken up. Veth and Bragi had to jump in and help the Einherjar separate the mob.”

“Truly?” The fire giant looked interested now.

She nodded. “I was there. I saw it.”

“That explains why Tyr was at the head of the table instead of Odin from the fourth course onwards.” He mused.

“Really?” Darcy had barely managed to pass third course and ended up just taking the dessert from the kitchen before retiring. She didn’t have the stomach capacity to sit out the whole seven courses. Avaldi nodded in answer. _That’s an interesting development_ , she mused.

“I was wondering about that. Your findings would explain it very well.”

“Great. Now, we have the Aesir and Vanir who are just rubbing each other wrong right now, and guess where the Alvar is?”

“Nowhere.” He answered.

Avaldi grinned—it was still a freaky shark-like grin, but she was getting used to it if she didn’t stare directly at the pointy teeth. She could even get why he was pleased; he had a much better understanding of the elves than her.

“Yes, nowhere. They’re not an easily readable people, as you’ve put it, but even more so than their separate kingdoms, is their High King who is Lord of Justice. I mean, taking that into mind, the _last thing_ he’d do in the Aesir-Vanir tension is to take any side. He’s probably a side of his own for now. Since we’ve established all that, we can easily see that the three strongest realms of the Nine Realms are currently _split_.”

Darcy jabbed her fork into the cherry cobbler she had picked up just now. It splintered into several delicious pieces.

“Now tell me, is _this_ a good condition for the Nine Realms to fight Fimbulwinter in?”

The cold realisation that settled on Avaldi’s visage was not a comfortable one to see. Darcy was not proud of the fact that she had put it there.

‘-

Darcy agreed that it would probably be important for the fire giants to get the news of Fimbulwinter ahead of time, especially if they had a more intense dislike of it than any other people of the Nine Realms. That was why she told Avaldi that he might as well approach Bragi to ask him directly about it.

_And ask him to introduce you to Veth too. You want to know the exact detail of what he sees, right?_ She’d asked.

That brought Avaldi to a sputtering awkwardness, of how she hadn’t just seriously suggested that he get up to _Vethrfölnir the Hawk_ and _talk_. She thought that was the point of bringing Bragi into the whole shindig; it was to allow him to do the introductions and bridge whatever distance needed bridging. Because Bragi was really friendly like that—at this point, she closed her mouth because Avaldi was taking a step back with wide-eyed dismay as if she’d just asked him to bathe with her.

Darcy didn’t know what the inter-realm issue involved was and she didn’t think she’d have enough time to go over it right now. She just sighed and volunteered to come along with him and be that fricking bridge he needed at tonight’s dinner. Hell, he could even pick her up at her room at that time.

He was so thankful that it got him sticking to her like a proper romantic date on the way back from the breakfast. Her arm was gently held in his. He didn’t even complain about their snail-tastic pace. She could even hear his teeth grinding from her height when too many people ended up passing them because they were too slow. Darcy was starting to wonder if it was possible to get road rage while _walking_. At that point she wanted to laugh hard, but that would’ve blown their cover to bits. So, she took a deep breath and held it in.

At least her shit-eating grin could always be misunderstood as something else.

About her dreams, Avaldi probably had no idea about most of them—he’d never visited earth, that was certain. He wasn’t the slightest bit surprise about her news that Jötunheim trying to invade another realm (earth, in this case), his casual reaction to that was to say ‘ _you should observe the many times they tried to invade Vanaheim in the last millennium_ ’. His only advice when she asked him about finding an instructor of magic was to refer her to his sister. That would be the one Muspell who looked as if she could chew nails and crunch glass. Darcy shuddered at the thought and gave him an outright ‘ _thanks, but no thanks_ ’.

He dropped her back at her suite, both of them grimly aware that there was someone out there who’d wanted them to kill each other on the day they arrived in Asgard. Her survival was in his interest, as he had no illusions about who would be blamed if something bad actually happened. She was also glad for the extra security.

It would seem that they both lucked out for now, though. She arrived in one piece _and why was Malmury staring with suspiciously watery eyes?_ The handmaiden hugged her hard, as if she’d just come ashore from a lifeboat of the Titanic. A confused Darcy simply hugged her in return and patted her back gently.

_There, there. It’s okay. Everything’s alright_.

So, she was now clear on where the fire giants stand in case of Fimbulwinter. Progress! Tentative alliances are made, and other great shit like that!

…

The thing is, the friggin’ Cold End of the Universe _still_ had no apparent solution. Not to mention that earth was _still_ being invaded by frost giants and she hadn’t managed to get any sort of help for earth yet. After Bragi clued her in about why the heck the Allthing was even held in the first place, she could see and figure out first-hand the high tension between the Aesir and Vanir. The prospect of getting any help seems to be getting farther and farther than before.

She sighed.

_Fuck my life_.

Oh well, she thought with jaded acceptance. Back to work.

‘-

Loki made it a habit to drop in at the reconnaissance tent.

Certainly, Helblindi’s amalgamation of tribes were unlike Byleistr’s. The tribes directly under the King of Jötunheim would have instantly bristled with suspicion and condescension, many of them still followed even older and stricter rules against _ergi_. Those who are under Helblindi managed to get used to the idea of a man practising magic quickly or kept their mouth shut from railing against effeminacy. Not unless they wanted to keep getting ground up against the blind frost giant in various spars.

The first time Loki casually strolled among the reconnaissance giants, they were merely weirded out and confused. Not that they would have tried to go against him, as they were fully aware that he was not a magician to be trifled with. When it was clear that he was more interested in listening as well as occasionally asking challenging questions that helped them troubleshoot problems faster, they became more used to his presence.

The current rush of scouts going in and out was unusual. The tall and wiry Scout Master was taking in everyone’s report and trying to make sense of it all with more or less a permanent frown on his face.

“What seems to be the problem?” Loki asked.

“Movements. Everyone gets their marching orders.” The reply was brusque.

Frostulf the Scout Master was busy multi-tasking; he was sorting through the paper work while listening to a scout explaining what he’d seen. Helblindi had been trying to create some basic bureaucracy. Unfortunately, some people’s handwritings will never rise beyond chicken scratches. Clearly, Frostulf was saving himself the headache of having to guess the contents of the report later.

Loki shook his head. “That is impossible. We’re not exactly the rear guard, but there’s no way we’re going anywhere until more than half the army has gone over.”

“I did not say that it is Prince Helblindi’s marching orders,” he clarified, right after he raised a hand to the talking scout to pause the young one as he turned to the Asgardian. “It is as I say, _everyone else’s_.”

Loki blinked. “What?”

That meant it was Byleistr giving marching orders to every tribe under him.

_It couldn’t be_ , he thought. _It’s not as if he’s trying to wage a war across a land border. He’s going to_ Midgard _. He cannot just_ march _everyone there. How many portals does his hedge mages have even managed—_

Frostulf finished with that last scout’s verbal report. He turned to the magician.

“We’re trying to figure out who will move where and when.”

“There are not enough portals for an _army_.” Loki insisted, more than a little baffled at the amount of report collecting on the table.

_Byleistr will have to be satisfied with the Jötnar army trickling into earth. Most of them will have to wait in line until another fraction has passed the few gates they’ve managed_.

“You have said so, and I believe my lord have given a similar explanation. Yet these reports say otherwise.” The Scout Master leaned on the table and Loki could see that the reports had been sorted into many piles. “It is why I have been keeping track to where each tribe was directed. If the tribe is large, each of their companies are tracked separately. After some tens of report, one finds that particular locations are repeated.”

“Meeting points,” he murmured.

“Precisely. We find the meeting points and count them, along with the tribes going to each.”

That was the rows of paper stacks that he was seeing on the table. There was something odd about it, though.

“There are too many report stacks, are there not? There’s around two dozen of them,” Loki commented.

“And there might still be more, not all the reports have arrived,” Frostulf said, his tone flat. “These are already the locations that have been noted as a temporary stay.”

“Which means there will be further marching orders,” Loki murmured, gleaning his suspicion right away. The usually expressionless frost giant looked satisfied for once.

“Yes. But where else would they march? Most of these places are good locations to set up a camp. Yet none of them create a continuous front or two. They are too scattered, too easily _cut off_. It is a very bad way of arranging armies making a permanent stop. We have never been spread out this thinly in the last few months.”

“This is why I conclude that these plains, these locations, are merely waypoints.” The frost giant stated.

The dawning realisation wasn’t a pleasant one. He _knew_ Byleistr didn’t have that many skilled magicians under him, whether in his employ or in the tribes that follow him. But he was not such a delusional person to ignore the evidence staring him in the face.

“You’re thinking that there’s a portal ready at each of these locations. That Byleistr has somehow managed to get two dozen portals to Midgard running.” Loki said.

“You have said that it is impossible,” Frostulf replied.

His exact words can be considered as respectful. On the other hand, his toneless reply as well as his unabashed stare would be considered as insolence by most others. Loki was actually more relaxed around the Jötunn once he figured out the man was brusque to everyone, more interested in his task most of the time. It was how Frostulf had ended up under Helblindi in the first place after he’d antagonised too many other tribe leaders. His callous remarks weren’t a personal slight against the Asgardian and once Loki knew that, he couldn’t care less.

“Hand me the reports,” Loki decided. “One from each location. Rather than asking you to make a list, it is much faster if I simply memorise those locations right now, isn’t it?”

“There are not quite named _settlements_. These are camp locations, roughly sketched, in the middle of nowhere.” Frostulf said, stern. Loki understood what he was trying to say implicitly. _Is it even possible to memorise too many of such non-specific locations quickly_?

“Well, there’s a map here,” Loki summoned the map over from a distant corner of the table with magic without thinking. The table was large and he wasn’t exactly at frost giant height—why lean out and desperately grasp for it like a fool when you’re a magician? “You can start pointing them out and I will commit them to memory.”

The Scout Master’s expression was of disbelief—and yet Loki could read the hard lines of his face because he’d been bothering the Jötunn in his command tent for a while now. To his men. He probably looked as intimidating as usual.

“If I miss even one camp, you may request a boon of me,” he replied.

Even while he was saying this, his hands had started signing to activate the memory interface Darcy had once seen in the server room of Stark Tower. The difference with that time was, this time he kept it invisible; he was the only one who could see it. In a few seconds and with a few flicks of his hands, he had retrieved a map of the Jötunheim valley they were currently at, as well as the last noted camps of various tribe.

Frostulf started reading location from the piles and Loki marked them on the map, complete with annotations. He might look as if he was merely listening serenely, but his hands that were below the table’s surface kept moving and marking.

That might be why after they’ve gotten 27 locations down, Frostulf asked him to repeat them back, just to make sure. Loki did this without fault, of course, as in his mind’s eye he can see the map hanging in the air right in front of him. He ignored the slight widening of Frostulf’s eyes and the way the frost giant paused for a few moments before he continued reading up the locations as if nothing had happened.

Inwardly, he was grinning.

There was a reason why most magicians seem to get better exponentially after the first half century or six—that was when they’ve managed to perfect their own magically-enhanced memory system.

“What will you do with these?” Frostulf asked.

“Visit them. I’m sure you’d like to know whether said portals actually exist or not.”

“That’s still too many places to check. I don’t have another scouting team to spare, or a whole day to spend gathering information—”

“I was not talking about a team, only myself. I can teleport to all locations,” Loki replied. “A quick look around until I know for sure and I can get going again. It wouldn’t even take half a day.”

It seems for once the Scout Master had nothing to say, perhaps only now noticing the sort of extreme advantage that a sorcerer can provide to any army. He bowed instead—it wasn’t even a mocking one, to Loki’s surprise.

“As you wish, Sorcerer.”

‘-

Loki moved from camp to camp quietly and unnoticed. The camp varied in terrain from truly flat plains to those that were thick with thorny bushes here and there. In those places, people were usually too busy trying to uproot or cut them down without him even needing to cast a distraction spell over himself. Other places had many annoying rocks that people have to circle around.

At the beginning, he hazarded a guess that around half of the camp grounds do not even have a portal.

If this were true, it would’ve cut the number of portals that Byleistr managed to construct by a half. Perhaps he’d run his magicians ragged and in secret from his brother. It was still not completely impossible for him to have managed it. Barely possible, yes, but maybe he was lucky. The more camps Loki had visited, the more his expectations changed.

First, there were only two camps without a portal. That might just be because they haven’t set it up yet.

Secondly, none of the portals failed, or if there were failed portals, they’ve been ignored by Byleistr. Which meant he had the firepower to just keep trying for portals until he has the number of working ones that he wanted. Loki considered the odds that only three out of five portals succeed _at best_ , based on his experiences, this meant that Byleistr had spent a tremendous amount of magic. Especially when not many of his magicians were better than Loki.

Confirming this with Frostulf when he returned back an hour or so later gained him a sombre look.

“The Frost Giant Army is truly proceeding with the main wave of the invasion.” The Jötunn said.

“This is much faster than we’d planned.” Loki muttered. It wasn’t supposed to be for several more days at the soonest. Of course, that projection was if Byleistr truly had the number of magicians they thought he had.

“There is certainly no change in the number of magicians under Byleistr’s employ, is there?”

“Other than Altgjöf? No.” His sigh had a sharp growl behind it.

Loki didn’t think that Frostulf was wrong in his head count. Considering that he was aware of the little-known fact that Frostulf was also Helblindi’s Spymaster, he did not doubt the accuracy and thoroughness of the frost giant’s conclusion.

“I had thought the land spirit might have provided him with the power required.” The Jötunn asked.

Loki shook his head. “No. he _may_ theoretically be able to call upon a huge magical resource. Yet a land spirit is not something one _tames_ , Frostulf. It is something immense and strange. It is an _alliance_ that is forged. A _genius loci_ will defend its people from utter destruction, but that is a defensive position.”

“It will not aid in an attack.”

“They’re not that useful after all, are they?” Frostulf’s answer was cynical. His bared teeth caused several of his underlings to step back without a thought; he certainly reminded them of the wolf he was named after.

Loki grinned back at that without a concern.

“Not by your reckoning or your needs.”

The Spymaster was clearly not happy. “This change means we’ll need to move now.”

“Certainly. We have always planned our movements to be just ahead of the primary surge.” Just not today, or even tomorrow, for that matter. _Not that those plans mattered now_ , Loki thought. They’d have to rethink everything while moving, but that wasn’t what concerned Loki. His mind was trying to run the various possibilities of how exactly this happened. Even more importantly, he needed to figure out what it would mean for their next moves.

“Byleistr had received aid from someone else.” Loki said after thinking for some time. “’Tis someone we don’t know.”

It wasn’t exactly surprising to Loki. Even if Byleistr managed to find an external ally, why would he bother to introduce that person to frost giants of other tribes? What, and open the possibility that they will make arrangements that might not benefit him? Definitely not. It was a reasonable step. Ruthlessly political, yes, but not difficult to understand.

Frostulf nodded in agreement, his expression barely changing; Loki knew then that the possibility had crossed his mind too.

“This means you have to be careful once you cross over. All eyes and ears alert.” Loki warned.

The frost giant’s brows creased slightly.

“On Midgard? Why?”

The Asgardian heard the unsaid question. _Why should we be wary among other frost giants?_

“You have kept your eyes open here and that is a good thing. Yet if we have missed this sudden increase in the magical ability of Byleistr’s faction…then perhaps the ally was never in Jötunheim in the first place.”

“He has a Midgardian ally.” Loki concluded. 

From the way Frostulf’s red gaze became a chilling stare into the distance, he knew right then that he’d covered a possibility that hadn’t occurred to the Spymaster.

“Well, well, _well_. Another unexpected player. This would be interesting, wouldn’t it, _my lord?_ ”

His grin was sharper and he’d said it with an ominous rumble underneath. Even if he’d said the title sarcastically, Loki knew that Frostulf wouldn’t even use it in the first place if he didn’t have any respect for the Asgardian. _The frost wolf has scented the trail_ , he mused. Several of the Scout Master’s underlings, however, was scared stiff at the potential friction between them.

Loki surprised everyone except Frostulf by laughing.

“Yes. _Very_ interesting.”

‘-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update is hopefully next week, barring any unforeseen real life crap.
> 
> '-
> 
> Some Mythological Meanderings:
> 
> **_Élivágar_ :** (Old Norse), one of the rivers of Helheim.
> 
> **_Frostulf_ :** (Old Norse), Frost wolf, a male given name. The frost giant himself is an OC (had to come up with them because it's not as if there's a lot of named giants in the myths, as opposed to the gods).
> 
> '-


	44. XLIV. Positions Made and Held (Audience)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Sif talks shop with Avaldi for a moment. Darcy and Avaldi tries to catch up to Bragi. They visited his wife’s orchard. Darcy’s trying to get assistance for earth in front of Bragi. She gets more than she bargained for. The Meeting with Three High Kings._

### XLIV. Positions Made and Held (Audience)

The _de facto_ foreign minister of Asgard, also known as the Aesir Bragi the Bard, was currently said to be spending his day in a distant orchard of his wife’s. _Apparently, he took his gardening hobby seriously_ , Darcy thought.

‘Distant’ in this sense would be somewhere in Asgard’s outskirts and no further, because at the end of the day, he still had to attend the Allthing in the afternoon. Sif was still sceptical of Darcy’s safety, what with the unknown threat still unidentified. The Asgardian would have prohibited Darcy from going anywhere today because her own schedule wasn’t free enough to accompany her.

Fortunately, Darcy remembered that there was still a particular fire giant who needed to talk to Bragi too, and she compromised with having him go along with her.

“Come on, Sif,” she said. “He’s not a bad enough warrior, right?”

The tall warrior sighed. “From what I managed to glean of his reputation, no, he is not half bad himself.”

“Great! Then what are you worried for?”

“I’m not sure about his horsemanship,” she replied. “We’ll probably need to find one of the draught beasts too—no ordinary horse would be able to bear his weight. I wonder what we can get…”

To be honest, Darcy had no idea of the sort of logistics involved as she got a messenger boy to call the fire giant. Based on his intense interest in Bragi, she could guess that Avaldi himself wasn’t going to say no, even if her invitation had been a tad hurried and abrupt. Even when Darcy told him that there were no guarantees that they’d see Veth now, only Bragi, he still ended up coming, already dressed for travel. Darcy hadn’t thought much about changing her outfit except to exchange her Nikes with tall riding boots.

Whoever handled her wardrobe were either really clueless or had a sense of humour. Someone had etched the Nike swoosh and brand at the heel of the boots.

This was how the three of them ended up standing outside the stables. Sif had assigned a horse and a stable boy to prepare the gelding for Darcy, while she was still staring at Avaldi from his head to his toes. Another stable boy waiting patiently behind her.

“Could you ride?” Sif had asked. Avaldi bristled but only answered brusquely.

“I certainly can. I am still the son of a prince, Lady Sif.”

“It’s not that I underestimate you,” Sif replied, her measured tone still unchanged. “But considering the endurance of both giants and their running ability, they’d scarcely need to ride anything. The land speed for their infantry is very close to their cavalry. Compared to the other races, riding is certainly a more superfluous activity for the giants. Even most Muspellir raiding parties are unmounted, and they can still escape Asgard’s horsemen.”

Knowing that her question had stemmed from her knowledge of the armies of the Nine Realm instead of any prejudice towards the Muspellir, Avaldi nodded with acceptance.

“I understand your question now.”

“Good. Then maybe you can knock some sense to those raiders to stop.” She replied. “We have gotten better at reading their patterns and tracking them down. Sooner or later, the noose will tighten around their necks and it will be their end. I will not pity them as they never had pity for their victims either.”

Unexpectedly, Avaldi laughed. “Them? They are the more impetuous of our race. Smash them, tear into them, _destroy them_ as you wish, Lady of War. Muspelheim will not stop you. This I do declare as the Ambassador of our Realm.”

He was cheerful but in a frighteningly bloodthirsty way. The way she saw him finger the hilt of his sword really didn’t help. Darcy had to take a step back from him because the aura he gave out was that menacing. There was a stateliness in his posture that was usually not there. Unlike Darcy, Sif did not seem to be intimidated in the slightest. She seemed to be more attentive and her posture was actually less stiff than it had been before.

“Oh, I assure you that I will.  But truly, you won’t interfere?” Sif asked, fire glittering in the depths of her eyes. He shook his head.

“No. Our oldest tenets are still that of strength. We respect someone true to their character, but we respect strength even more. If they were to trespass and test your strength, then they should be prepared were you to fight back. If you are much stronger than them, strong enough to destroy them…well, that makes them fools to have challenged you in the first place, doesn’t it?”

“You will not try to save them from our justice?” Sif asked, interested.

He grinned, all sharp pointed teeth. “We are not a kind or merciful realm, Lady Sif. You know that. They made their bed. They should lie in it. In fact, I would be very grateful if you would invite me to their trials and punishment.”

“So they can beg for your assistance?”

“So they can see how much I don’t care about their pleas. It will crush their petty souls.” Avaldi answered with ease as he demonstrated said crushing movement with his left fist. His grin still hadn’t eased up. Sif was not as stern as she usually appeared either, her smile curling up at the corners.

“Well, I certainly will, _Lord Avaldi_. I feel that we will work very well together.”

“Indeed, Lady Sif. So do I.”

Sif extended her hand and Avaldi caught it to clasp her arm. It looked like some sort of warrior’s version of a handshake. Both of them were very pleased and their grins edging too close to violence for Darcy’s liking. The Asgardian warrior seemed to be no longer worried about Darcy now as she gave orders to the second stable boy to prepare the fire giant’s mount—whatever it was that she wanted them to prepare, Darcy didn’t recognise the name. It simply didn’t sound like a horse. She left soon enough with two terse greetings to both of them. She nodded back. Avaldi returned the greeting and was now actually _humming_.

 _A fire giant. Humming. Well, that’s one thing you don’t see every day_.

“Well, _you’re_ in a good mood,” Darcy commented.

He didn’t deny it. “To meet another with a warrior’s soul, as keen as well-tempered steel…well, that is not something that happens every day either.”

The other stable boy had now just returned leading something that looks like a giant rhinoceros with thickened skin that functioned as natural armour, though it had a stouter built than any rhinoceros she’d seen in a zoo. _Wow_. Next to the badass rhino, her gelding looked puny. She didn’t relish the idea of trying to control a creature that big when it was panicking, though—she could barely manage a horse. That was why she climbed up to her gelding without envy. Even Avaldi was impressed, so she supposed the creature wasn’t exactly a common one.

Avaldi managed to climb up his ride in one leap. Now _that_ was something she wished she could do.

‘-

The journey to the outskirts of Asgard wasn’t that much fun. Darcy was reminded yet again that she didn’t exactly enjoy horse riding and she wasn’t any good at it. Considering that nearing the end of the journey Avaldi had begun to surreptitiously glance in her direction a few times, she had the feeling that he’d noticed how much she screwed up.

When she decided to just ask him straight out about it, he did admit that he saw some issues with her riding posture.

 _You’re too stiff_ , he’d said.

_Well, yeah, because I’m afraid of falling and I really don’t want to fall. This is just me holding on!_

The problem was, he wasn’t that good at giving instructions either, so Darcy just sighed and chalked the conversation as a loss.

She was lucky that this wasn’t a long-distance trip.

When she’d heard that Bragi was in his wife’s orchard, she’d thought, _oh, like the ones we’d visited this morning, then_. She imagined plum trees with their dark shining wealth, or apples and cherries so vivid and bright. She imagined the velvet skin of peaches and apricots, the air rich with their sweetness and dizzying even with one breath. This had been her experience in the Western Orchards this morning, at least before Avaldi marched past all those fruit trees and chose the oaken hill. 

Ironically, Avaldi might be on to something after all, because the orchard of Bragi’s wife turned out to be another grove of oak.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” She asked.

“You heard the name as well as I did. This is the map that Sif had given us and yes, this is it.” He passed her the piece of parchment that Sif had sketched on. Darcy blinked and waited until the text was something she can read, and then tried matching that with the sign post next to the gate.

“Wow, you’re right.”

There was a warning rumble underneath his tone. “Must you sound so sceptical?”

“Oh no, no. It’s not you, it’s the orchard. It doesn’t have any fruits, dammit, and that’s what an orchard is supposed to be.” Darcy corrected herself before Avaldi could get any impression that she was doubting his map reading skills. He hadn’t been stubborn enough to stick to his own opinion—he’d asked several people on their way here. She didn’t think he’d gotten them lost.

“Ah. I see.” He nodded.

There was a long mournful cry of a bird. That gave her goose bumps.

“Still, we’re already here. Might as well go in and ask, right?”

“Yes.”

He’d leapt down from his armoured rhinoceros and opened the gates without further deliberation. He signed to her to proceed and Darcy gladly did so.

“Thanks.”

“It is not a problem at all.” Avaldi replied, closing the wooden gates behind them. Apparently, it wasn’t locked at all, merely latched. Darcy had to marvel on just how safe Asgard was that people could do that here. They followed the road leading in. There were no sentries that could be seen and they didn’t meet a guard until a good way in. He didn’t seem too suspicious either, only asking them for their names and business. Once he heard them and noted them down, he directed them down the side paths.

“You’re looking for Lord Bragi, right? He’d be in the eastern side, just follow this path and you’re set.”

“That’s it?” Darcy asked.

The Asgardian nodded. “Yes, that’s it.”

Slightly bewildered, the two of them continued on their journey.

“That was…too easy,” Avaldi murmured.

“Yeah, gotta agree with you there. Which makes me wonder if there are actually traps or security that we can’t see.” Darcy commented. She watched _Indiana Jones_ , okay? The most innocuous places usually end up as one of the most dangerous.

“Ah, too true. It would make much more sense that way.” He agreed.

The path did not turn or meander much and was not difficult to follow. The place was not flat, there were many small hills and hillocks and it was easy to tell where the path lay—it was the flattest area around. The place was peaceful enough that it was too easy to daydream as their mounts moved at a comfortable walking pace. She loved the sound of wind rustling through the slightly dry leaves; they were strangely melodic, like a chorus of whispers. The scent of woodland that became more pervasive the deeper they went. As she looked up she was impressed by the bronzing leaves— _I don’t know any oaks on earth with this colouring_. _It was probably because it was Asgardian oaks, or something_. There were also the unexpected twinkling glimmers of gold that dotted the canopy like Christmas lights.

“What are you looking at?” Avaldi asked.

“The…dunno. Shiny berries?”

He huffed. “If there is anything that looks like berries on an oak tree, it would mean bad news.”

She glanced at him. “Really? Why’s that?”

“It’s probably mistletoe berries, and that tree is a parasite upon others.”

Darcy glanced up again. _Yep, still twinkling_. “I don’t think they’re red, though. They’re golden.”

“Impossible.” He snapped.

“Dude, stop growling at me like an ass and just look up for yourself.”

He did just that and was certainly surprised. They talked back and forth for a while as they tried to decide whatever it was they were seeing. All this time, the golden berries twinkled from the heights, serene and unreachable. Their ideas were spread out from Darcy’s wild guess that it might be a new type of mistletoe to Avaldi’s supposition that maybe they weren’t looking at an oak tree after all, never mind that the shape of the leaves was the same. Darcy thought that was ridiculous—why the heck would a tree be similar to another one just for shit and giggles? Unless it’s like those climbing plants that look similar to a poison ivy; that plant clearly got an advantage from the mimicry. It’s not as if oaks are poisonous, is it? Avaldi scoffed back at her idea that the berries were from some unfamiliar type of mistletoe. As the berries were well-spread the oak trees might as well be _dead_ —as the parasite would have taken over almost _all_ of the branches to be able to cover the canopy with berries like they can see now.

It was Bragi’s laughter that pulled them out of their good-natured bickering. That was when they realised they’ve been stopped in the middle of the road just to argue about berries.

Darcy didn’t stop herself from facepalming.

“I was wondering you’ll ever arrive. The sentry had told me of guests and yet no one came.” Bragi said.

“Our apologies Master Bragi, we were…distracted.” Avaldi collected his wits faster than Darcy as he jumped down from his mount and greeted the Asgardian. The Bard was wearing old clothes again, this time complete with a leather apron. Probably because he knew he was going to be dealing with dirt all day.

“Yes. The fruits were so _shiny_. We couldn’t help but wonder.” Darcy said. “We’re sorry, really.”

“Oh, I know. No need to apologise,” The Aesir nodded with understanding. He led them on. The fire giant followed behind him, leading his mount while Darcy cursed softly and tried to get down from her gelding.

“I am not unaware of the orchard’s capability to mesmerise.” Bragi said.

“Mesmerise?” Avaldi asked, his tone not quite believing the statement.

Darcy was still hung-up on the word ‘orchard’.

“Why is it called an orchard, anyway? I don’t think I see any fruiting trees _anywhere_.”

Bragi chuckled. “Yes, young man, this orchard can mesmerise. It is easy to slip into its beautiful embrace if you are not warded against it. It is very, very easy to lose sight of your purpose if you are completely unaware of the nature of this place.”

Then, he turned to Darcy.

“If you have wondered about the name of this place, young lady, then this might enlighten you.”

The Bard gave Darcy something from one of his pockets. She stared at the acorns on her hand. Her palm was bright with reflected light, which was unsurprising as the acorns were _golden_. She could feel Avaldi walking next to her side, looming over one shoulder as he was just as curious.

“These were the first fruits of Asgard’s orchard to earn greatness. They still are, by the way. Thus, any grove with the golden oak trees are always given the honour of being called an ‘orchard’.”

“These are…acorns? Golden acorns?” Darcy mused out loud.

“These are the golden _epli_ of Asgard.”

Darcy looked up at the Bard once more, brown eyes wide open as realisation hammered into her head. “Epli? Wait, I thought they were _apples_. I thought the legendary fruits of Asgard were _golden apples_!”

From the confusion in Avaldi’s eyes, it was clear that he had a somewhat similar expectation. Bragi laughed freely.

“The misunderstanding is certainly a convenient distraction. Yet suppose that you know the histories of Midgard, young lady, of the humans who wrote of their early contact with the Aesir. You would also know that during their time, apples have yet to reached Europe at all. _Epli_ is a word for many fruits, and also acorns.”

With that realisation, the brunette hurriedly returned the golden acorns to Bragi. They were more responsibility and temptation than she actually wanted to think about.

Unexpectedly, the Bard smiled.

Darcy couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d just passed some sort of test.

‘-

Darcy didn’t have to talk much to explain the reason that they were there as they walked deeper into the orchard. They left their mounts tied under a tree for the moment, and Bragi helpfully left a bundle of grasses for both.

The first issue that she brought up was obviously Avaldi’s concern about Fimbulwinter and how he’d prefer that the fire giants know about it. The Muspell spoke up right after she finished, continuing the issue. Bragi listened to him carefully before answering that the signs of Fimbulwinter are still faint. Yes, Vethrfölnir caught it, but it was precisely because he was the Hawk that he could even perceive it in the first place. For everyone else, it is still barely there. As for news, he needn’t worry about it because there _will_ be an announcement about it at tonight’s dinner. It will not be an official announcement that yes, Fimbulwinter is coming, though.

It was clear that the Muspell wasn’t satisfied with this. As Bragi moved on to how they would like to ascertain the truth of the matter by investigating further, Avaldi was intrigued.

“You will be sending people to Midgard?”

“That seems to be the best bet so far, isn’t it?” Bragi mused. “The best situation for us would be to find out that the unexpected changes Vethrfölnir had seen is not permanent, that things have returned to how it always been without much prompting.”

“If only we’re so lucky,” Darcy groused.

“Well, one can hope. There is no doubt that we should also prepare to actually confirm our bad news.”

“I would like to see for myself as well,” Avaldi said. The Bard nodded.

“We’ll see about that, young man.”

It wasn’t long before they were handed baskets by Bragi. A confused Darcy and Avaldi was then informed that as they were here, they might as well help with the harvest while they talk. Unlike most soft fruits, the first stage of the harvest was actually not too difficult—they just needed to pick the acorns that have fallen. The nuts themselves were hardy that they will not be bruised by the fall. The ground was dotted with gold; in some parts of the grove, it was thick enough to blanket them.

There were so many of the gleaming acorns it was bright enough even in the shade. Darcy even thought that it would’ve been nice to have her sunglasses with her as she carelessly sat down on the ground. Her skirt would survive some creases and a little dirt, right?

“Are these really the cure-all that they say in legends?” Darcy asked. At this point, she was wondering whether it was even a good idea to eat something that metallic.

“Well, I have to say that nothing can cure death,” Bragi replied.

“What about anything short of that?” She asked again.

“It works well enough for most of the time.” He replied cryptically. Darcy had to admit that she wasn’t exactly surprised about his very non-specific answers. The brunette kept tossing more acorns into her basket. Avaldi did the same with his not far from her. As they stayed, she began to notice that there were other people in the grove farther away doing the exact same thing. _So_ , _it_ is _harvest season after all_ , she thought.

“There _is_ one thing you need to keep in mind, though,” Bragi said.

“What is it?”

“They have to be freely given or freely exchanged at the orchard. A person may decide to gain an acorn from the orchard by some other more creative way, but if that is so, I will not be responsible for the consequences.” The Asgardian’s smile was still friendly.

Darcy couldn’t help but glance at Avaldi at that moment. The Muspell happened to have the same idea and their gazes met.

“There’s a curse for anyone who stole it, isn’t it?” She said in low voice.

Avaldi nodded, his voice just as low. “At least a hex of some sort.”

“And here I thought the place was unguarded.”

“I presume no one was that foolish to ignore the warning.”

‘-

The main reason that made Darcy look for Bragi in the first place was actually for earth’s interest. Which is why that even as she picked the acorns, she slowly made her way towards Bragi’s side.

“So, I’m going to say this as Ambassador of Midgard,” Darcy started, “I have this frost giant problem in my backyard.”

“You were looking to alleviate your pest problems, then?” He asked in good humour.

“Anything that can help with that is good. You know, I’ve thought over it. Like, seriously enough that I ended up rolling around the bed for more than an hour before I can fall asleep last night.” Darcy picked up more acorns and threw them into the basket. She was getting better at targeting her basket from a distance, reducing her need to go back and forth to it or drag it everywhere.

“Earth is currently experiencing a major frost giant invasion. It’s not what Thor would call a raiding party, because it’s not a simple hit-and-run job. They managed to cover a large area with _portals_. Like hell I know how they do it, though, only that Jane’s instruments can detect it and my job is to chart that sort of crap. I don’t know how many frost giants are going to come once they start streaming through, but either way, it’s not good.”

“Still, an attack of that size isn’t business-as-usual, right?” She asked.

“Based on your description, yes, I think it’s unusual.”

She nodded. “Alright. One unusual thing down. Then, we have Vethrfölnir’s report. He said he’d flown close to earth, right above earth. That was when he said he saw the irregularities in the fabric of space time, or something.”

“What he saw is closer to irregular behaviour of matter in that area.” Bragi corrected.

“Right. That thing.”

“His worst fear is that the constants of the universe somehow changed in a particular region—at least that is what I get from trying to translate his long explanations.” The Bard said segued smoothly. “Considering that it takes their fine tuning for our universe to grow into an environment that can support life as we know it, that is a very…fundamental issue.”

“Err, what?”

He smiled. “Oh, don’t mind me. Go ahead.”

 _Right. Like that’s not freaking intimidating at all_. She almost felt like screaming to Jane for help. _What else is he? Bard, foreign minister, farmer and now part-time physicist??_

“Um. Okay. _So_ …based on the degree of his freak out, especially since we consider that Hawk had lived for tens of thousands of years and had all those experiences to compare to, this is some major shit that he’s seeing. We can say that it’s a highly unusual event, right?”

Bragi nodded, listening to her arguments carefully.

“Yes, we can.”

“Right. Then, what are the odds that one unusual event and one _highly unusual_ event happening on one particular planet happened to be unrelated?”

_What are the odds?_

Jane would usually be muttering something about how the prior probability is so small that you might as well start to hypothesise about unicorns causing shit with rainbow farts. With less expletives, of course, since this was Jane talking.

“You raise an interesting point.” The Bard seemed thoughtful.

“So, you said that Asgard is thinking of sending people to make sure whether Fimbulwinter is coming or not, right? I think whoever is dropping down on earth should also be prepared to face the frost giants. Why? Because I think they should check the portals for weirdness too. God knows how many strange crap Jane had detected around them before.”

Darcy moved away a little since she’d run out of acorns in that area. She might not have intended to be an acorn-gatherer today, but she damn well would do it properly since she was here.

“We might be able to find the warning signs that Veth saw near the frost giant’s portals too. That would be a nice confirmation. On the other hand, we might not find anything—but at least we’ve tried. Either way, it’s better to actually find out for sure than guess whether they’re related or not, right?” She mulled over it a little more. “You’d also need some warriors in the team. Otherwise they won’t be able to defend themselves properly against the attacking Jötnar.”

Apart from the rustling and soft clicks of acorns being dropped against each other in baskets, no other sound was heard for a while. When Darcy looked up again, she thought Bragi’s smile was wider.

“That was an excellent plan, Darcy.”

She brightened. “Really?”

“Yes. That’s why you might as well present it to Odin tonight.” He patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll be right behind you.”

Her smile froze on her lips.

 _That’s what I’m worried of! I want to be right behind_ you, _not being pushed ahead to the altar like a sacrificial lamb!_

‘-

“Did you just say that the signs that Veth saw was over _Midgard?_ ” Avaldi had found a way to move closer.

Darcy couldn’t help but check his acorn track—clean. At least he was also determined enough about his current responsibility not to abandon the acorn collecting, just like her. He was staring at her with a vexed look that she didn’t understand, though.

“Yes, it was,” Bragi confirmed.

“You could have said so earlier!” Avaldi’s voice was rising—he said this Darcy, of course. _Like hell he was going to whine in Bragi’s face_ , she thought.

“That’s not really important then, is it? Anywhere it began, Fimbulwinter is a risk to all realms. Doesn’t even matter where it starts—other than those poor people probably meeting their shitty end earlier. In that case, you only need to know whether it’s close to your planet or not, right? And it’s _not_ anywhere near yours.” Darcy finished.

“Yes, and yet it’s close to _yours_.” He noted.

“Yeah, so? Pretty shitty, all things considered.” She replied, still picking up acorns.

Actually, a part of her brain had been resolutely blocking herself from imagining what the ‘signs of Fimbulwinter over earth’ would mean for earth and its people. Probably because it knew she would be gibbering in terror otherwise. Nothing would get done that way and Darcy still had to get some Aesir, Vanir, _whatever_ to check out her unfortunate planet.

Her apparent calm seemed to confound Avaldi.

“You are not worried?”

She shrugged, not really wanting to talk about it.

“This is your realm that is imperilled. If you did not go home soon—”

Darcy glared at him. “ _Of course_ I’m worried, you jerkass! If I start thinking about it, I won’t be able to think about anything else and how the _hell_ do I get anything done that way?!”

Avaldi’s azure eyes had widened in surprise. She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying hard to not think. Her eyes were feeling uncomfortably warm.

“My apologies.”

That was unexpected. She only managed a stiff nod in reply. He still didn’t back away, only turning increasingly awkward. Then, Bragi mimed something from behind Darcy. That was when Darcy felt a weirdly stiff hand on her shoulders; she realised Avaldi was patting her back.

“There, there. There… there…”

He sounded like an actor desperately guessing his forgotten lines that Darcy couldn’t help but snort. He was stiff, with an expression that seemed to wonder out loud what clown costume he’d need to put on next. Her realisation turned into the first beginnings of a chuckle. The fire giant looked even more confused at first, before that changed into miffed as he realised that she was grinning at him.

“Thanks. I needed that.”

“I gathered, from what Bragi was trying to tell me just now.” He said. His expression clearly said that he had no idea what she was talking about.

Well, what she had needed was the laughter, but he might be touchy enough to misunderstand that she chose not to say anything. She really wasn’t laughing at him. His awkwardness was just too cute sometimes. And dangerous. Like a dire wolf puppy.

“Would you be interested to go, Avaldi?” Bragi asked.

They both turned to the Asgardian, who had a particular gleam in his eyes.

“What?” Darcy couldn’t believe it. “He’s ambassador of Muspelheim to _Asgard_. I don’t think he’ll be able to stay in touch with Asgard’s affairs if he’s all the way down at _earth_.”

She turned to the fire giant, expecting the same baffled look. What she saw was an expression of deep thought. The brunette almost couldn’t believe that he was considering it.

“I thought you said you have to show that you can make it as ambassador to your cousin, right? Considering that he’s the _de facto_ High King of the Muspellir, that sounds like a challenging task. What would he say if you just up and left like that?” She was trying to get common sense into his head.

Considering the intrigued expression on his face, it didn’t seem like she managed to get anything past his skull.

“Yet to stand against Fimbulwinter would be the first honour for any fire giant,” he was thoughtful.

Her protests fell silent on her lips. She didn’t know it was that important to him. When she turned to Bragi, he was not the slightest bit surprised. _Oh, alright. I’m the only one here who had no idea about the Nine Realm people_.

“I’ll resign as the Ambassador to Asgard,” Avaldi suddenly concluded.

“What?!” _Hey, hey,_ hey _, isn’t that kinda hasty?_

He turned to her. “Do you know that Geilir had always thought that Aerindis would have done a better job? Unexpectedly, my uncle stepped in and insisted on my filling the post. I’ve always wondered if he knew something…”

“Like what?” She asked, not expecting the detour in topics. “Maybe he was sure you’d do a good job at it.”

For some reason, he shook his head.

“Perhaps he knew whoever our ambassador was, that person would meet _you_. Aerindis is not nearly as flexible to unexpected changes,” he mused, while Darcy had no idea how she would even start to break his delusions. “I’ll suggest to Geilir to appoint me as Ambassador to Midgard instead. That would be a good enough reason for me to also go to Midgard.”

“Excellent, Avaldi!” Bragi added.

“That is _not helping,_ Master Bard. Shoot, we don’t even know whether I’d manage to convince Odin!” Darcy complained.

“Even if Geilir had considered the request to be trivial, he would think that I’m smitten. It would be enough for him to have mercy on me and agree to the idea.” The fire giant was pleasantly surprised. It was weird to have him looking impressed at _her_. His tone even turned slight formal as he gave her courtly bow. “Your love plan was truly one of the best for the long-term. I apologise for ever doubting your skill in being a diplomat, Lady Darcy.”

“Right. Let me start drafting the possible team before Darcy presents this to the Allfather.” Bragi added with enthusiasm.

The pressure of speaking up to Odin was still too much on Darcy that she barely even managed to squeak out a small ‘it’s fine’ to Avaldi. She buried her face in her hands because if she didn’t start breathing slowly, she was going to hyperventilate.

_Guys, this is called ‘counting your eggs before they hatch’, you know?_

‘-

As darkness fell, the lamps were lighted and their brass and bold forms gathered in the gardens in great numbers once more, clouding the tree branches and trailing near balconies. Yesterday, Darcy had felt excited at their festive appearance. Today, she only felt apprehension as they were but another sign that time unavoidably wound down towards the feast. She chose a dress of navy blue, something more serious-looking that can almost give her the feeling of wearing a suit. It just might help her focus that way.

Was it just her feeling, or was Bragi also dressed a little more formally than he was yesterday? He gave her a nod of recognition when he saw her from his actual position at the head table—he didn’t trade table assignations today. It didn’t matter. They had agreed on the signs before.

Bragi promised her a meeting with the Allfather and she was about to get it.

They left their table after the second course was down.

Avaldi even greeted with a raised palm that was gradually curled into a fist from across their tables. It was some sort of ‘may good fortune follow you in your fight’ sign. She did her best to return it.

Konrad, the person who was actually assigned next to her seat, couldn’t help glancing between her and Bragi when he saw they were leaving almost simultaneously, or the looks she’d shared with the fire giant ambassador. He was welcome to keep wondering because she certainly wasn’t giving him any answers.

Darcy walked beside the Bard of Asgard outside the hall, following his cues and directions. They took several confusing turns and mysterious doorways, enough that Darcy wondered whether she’d ever figure out the way out. At the end of their path was a sitting room that looked more ancient than most, its furniture was not finely carved or varnished. The most noticeable part of the room was the round table. The wall above the fireplace was completely covered with a wooden bas relief that seemed to have been moved there from an older building. Perhaps a temple that had burned down or no longer existed.

The stones on the floor were huge and roughly hewn, as if giants had cut them in far-away quarries before carrying them and lining them here.

“When the first Golden Hall burned down, not all of its supporting buildings did,” Bragi explained. “Some still survived and are carefully tended to.”

“To forget the past is to unlearn its lessons.” Another voice replied.

Darcy looked up and met eyes of gold and a gaze that fell upon her with a heavy weight of its own. The intense scrutiny was giving her shivers and an urge to find the nearest closet and hide. A part of her was somehow convinced that it would still not be far enough away. _Tyr_ , she thought.

“Indeed,” The Bard agreed. “That would be unwise.”

The High King of Alfheim nodded in greeting to Bragi and he nodded back. She was sure that Bragi gave a short introduction, but she was too nervous to notice what exactly she had said. She realised that they were invited to sit down and sit down they did. Tyr himself did not sit right in front of her, but to the left. She supposed they were waiting for the other two kings.

It was not long before Odin and Frey showed up. Odin was as grim as ever while Frey was no less bright or immaculate as the morning.

Bragi made another short introduction, probably for Frey. Even though his expression neutral, she had a feeling that he was amused. The Bard had gone over Veth’s report once more, highlighting how important that was, before he remarked that Darcy had something no less important to say.

 _I can almost imagine what they’re thinking—that whatever I’m going to say it can’t be more important than Fimbulwinter_.

That was why she didn’t mince words.

“Currently, there is a Frost Giant invasion happening on Earth.” Darcy began.

 _Don’t meet their eyes, don’t meet their eyes_. The trick, Darcy decided, was to stare somewhere around the nose or even eyebrows. Her nerves protested loudly every time she got caught in their heavy gaze.

She stared at the grains of the table. “It probably doesn’t even sound like a big deal to you. I’m sure that you’ve all seen many wars and invasions.”

“Thor is still in Midgard, is he not?” Odin asked. Darcy raised her head.

“Yes, he is.”

“Then I don’t see the problem.”

“Well, I suppose you _can_ choose to not see the invasion as a problem.” She moved on before anyone realised the sharpness in her choice of words, even if her tone was mild. “But as Veth said, there are signs of Fimbulwinter over earth. It might just be a weird coincidence, but it’s certainly worse news than the invasion. Someone needs to check it out.”

“Someone?” Frey asked.

“We would gladly check it out ourselves, but I don’t think the rest of the Nine Realms are going to be satisfied with the sort of results we can get. Having outdated technology does that, you know?” She gave him an innocent smile. One that came with a not-so-innocent gleam in her eyes.

“We would do better with a little help. If you can tell us what to look for, teach us how to see it or how to build the machines we need to see it, we’ll check it out for you.”

“Out of the question.” Odin answered.

Darcy had sort of expected that answer. It didn’t mean she wasn’t annoyed when she heard it.

“Well, I don’t agree just giving up and waiting until the end of the world arrives.” She replied, before shutting up again. _Must not curse the high kings. Must. Not. Curse. The high. Kings_. Meeting Odin’s gaze was also something she wasn’t planning on doing.

“We will take care about it.” The Allfather said.

The sentence sounded so final that she didn’t like it. _Was that supposed to be a dismissal? Was I supposed to just walk away after that?_

“How?” She said instead.

Three heads turned in her direction and Darcy took a careful breath. She waited, trying to ignore the way Tyr’s presence was raising the hairs on the back of her neck, or how Odin’s monocular gaze was an invisible pressure over her shoulders, daring her to challenge him and find out the price for it. Frey’s unwavering observation was not much better than the others; it almost felt as if he was cataloguing every single hair out of place, or even the tiniest splash from food that she might have missed.

“How?” Darcy asked again, “I would really like to know, because I want to be able to tell people of earth of the good news.”

More silence and that uncomfortable pressure building up, but she wasn’t giving up. Her hands clutched her skirt tightly.

“Does Veth knows how to stop it?” She asked.

No, Veth doesn’t know. He’d said that himself yesterday. It didn’t mean she had no purpose in asking.

“Because if there’s anything that might work—and I mean _anything_ —then the people of earth would willingly do it.”

“There is no need.”

“There is all the need because the end of the world is the _end_ of _everyone’s_ fricking world.” Darcy said. “Doing nothing is not acceptable.”

“You _cannot_ do anything,” Odin replied. “To prevent it is beyond your means. Acceptance is your best path.”

“Is it beyond your means too? Because if it is, pretend I’ve never asked for anything then. We’ll deal with it on our own, the best we can.” Darcy used her best innocent expression as she said the mildly insolent words.

Of course, there was no way she was just going to leave. She raised her head and waited, meeting each of their gaze for maybe a flickering second. It was just enough to send the signal that no, she really wasn’t backing down, but definitely not an outright, challenging stare-down. Her hands and fingers feel really cold now.

“There are always ways.”

She glanced to the left. Tyr has finally spoken up, crown of crystal feathers over his brow. _Did it just ruffle in some invisible wind?_ That’s impossible. Crystals don’t bend. Maybe it’s a visual illusion caused by the shifting metallic reflection on its surface. Yeah, that’s it.

“There will be people that can observe the damage.” The Alvar said.

“It will not be so difficult to send them to Midgard.” This was Frey’s opinion.

Odin did not say anything, gazing at her from under his eyelid with cold and implacable willpower. It was difficult to read his expression and all the hairs at her back was standing. She held back the urge to shiver.

“As I’ve said before, we _will_ handle it, Midgardian. Your questions are unnecessary.”

 _Hey, it’s completely necessary for me! That’s what we call accountability over the executive position!_ Not that Darcy let out the outburst other than complaining in her own head.

“We will settle the details after this, then,” Bragi suddenly stepped in into the face-off. Darcy exhaled softly in relief as the attention of the three kings moved away from her. Her knees still felt like jelly but it was much better when she wasn’t being stared down like an ant under a magnifying glass.

“I have several people in mind already.” The Bard said.

“Good, make your arrangements, Bragi. You are dismissed.”

Bragi stood up and Darcy certainly could read his light tap on her arm as a sign for her to leave too. She stood up and easily followed whatever thanks and greetings Bragi just made with her own. As the Bard bowed, she curtsied, and then they were out of the room in no time.

The air in the hallway was _much_ easier to breathe in.

“You were excellent.” Bragi gave an almost congratulatory pat over her shoulder.

“I was?” She felt lightheaded.

“Yes. I suppose we’ll leave in a few more days. Take some time to relax and enjoy the rest of your visit to Asgard. You’ve upheld the oaths of your office remarkably well. Leave the rest to me.”

“Ah, thanks…”

Bragi gave his excuses and withdrew. He was certainly off to other meetings somewhere else with light feet and an unburdened smile. Just a day in his life, she supposed. Darcy, on the other hand, was still stunned from somehow surviving that high-pressure room. She could certainly sympathise with a minnow that had just escaped the sharks, and was now confused about the fact that it was _somehow_ still alive. _What do I do now?_

That was when she realised that Bragi took so many turns and weird shortcuts that she didn’t exactly remember the way back.

“Aww, _dammit_.”

‘-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot how mind-numbing it is to sit through a language test when it's a language you can easily use in daily life. Can't apply for grad school without a bleeding TOEFL test since I spent my undergrad days in a non-English-speaking university. That sodding overpriced test is the reason for the delayed update, by the way.
> 
>  
> 
> Mostly Mythological Meanderings:
> 
> **_Epli_ :** (Old Norse), the most common translation for this word today is, as you might have guessed ‘apple’. Yet, to quote Turville-Petre (Ch VIII, _the Lesser Known Deities, Iðunn_ ) on this, “Cultivated apples were not known in Scandinavia until the late Middle Ages.* But the Norse word _epli_ , which appears in various forms in all Germanic languages, does not only mean ‘apple’. It is to be applied to other round fruits, and even to acorns.**” So, I decided to take the unexpected path and make Idunn’s fruit of panacea be acorns. _Ha!_ That was instant mindscrew, wasn’t it?
> 
> * See S Bugge, _Arkiv för nordisk filologi_ , V, 1889, I ff
> 
> ** See the translation of the _Saga of King Heiðreks_ ( _Saga Heiðreks Konungs)_ by Christopher Tolkien, 1960. In case you’re curious, yes, he’s related to JRR Tolkien. Ch. Tolkien is his son. Both were professors of Germanic languages.
> 
>  ** _Iðunn_ :** (Norse Mythology) A minor goddess associated with the medicine/panacea of the gods that takes the form of golden _epli_. In case you’re wondering why Bragi is in the orchard, do note that he and Idunn are married.
> 
> ‘-


	45. XLV. Totally Personal Personality Clashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _A Triad member visits the Two Queens. Sarah joins an ongoing argument and faces off with an old acquaintance. Four people are having tea in a hostage situation. Aggressive discussions. Loki demonstrates a little of set theory. And then, there were two._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of my commenters have made good points about Sarah, in that she does have many similarities with Darcy (that was how they got to be friends in the first place). On the other hand, she might not feel like a unique enough at this point in the story because of that. So, I set out to write a chapter that gives me the opportunity to highlight the difference…and boy did I succeed in doing that, to my own chagrin.
> 
> To Shadows of Shemai: Since I didn't hear from you in chapter 44, I'm not sure whether you've read it yet. Just a friendly reminder to check it out first before this one.
> 
> So, since this chapter mostly set in Two Queens, I thought I might as well get that faux 1920s – 1930s feel. I wrote with some of the calmer songs from the Great Gatsby soundtrack on loop. Just in case anyone’s curious enough:  
>  \- Lana Del Rey – Young and Beautiful  
>  \- Florence and the Machine – Over the Love  
>  \- Gotye – Heart’s a Mess  
>  \- Sia – Kill and Run
> 
> Aaand a bit of Yoko Kanno’s work in Ghost in the Shell for the atmosphere:  
>  \- Fish ~ Silent Cruise  
>  (here’s one of the links I got from randomly searching youtube to make it easier: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mOM8w4TutVE)

### XLV. Totally Personal Personality Clashes 

Julius Lung had just wanted a nice, stiff drink along with some peace and quiet.

Well, _relative_ peace and quiet, anyway.

He walked down the fog-filled streets of the city, hat low on his head. He supposed he _could_ have joined his co-workers in a bar in Chinatown; it wasn’t as if the Triad didn’t own a few, and that he wouldn’t automatically get a discount in them. He just…wanted to get away from them occasionally. He didn’t need to hear about some young fresh meat bragging about how they killed a rival or roughed up some miscreants or even some poor sod who was just behind on their rent.

Fighting someone who could fight back was one thing—he wouldn’t think twice about it and he wouldn’t let anyone else think he was easy picking. Most thugs were mere rabble, pathetic in their bluster, and fighting people who were weaker than you was just…no. A part of him kept balking at the idea—he didn’t know whether he had such damnable pride or if it was something as dubious as his own morals (not that he had any illusions about whether he was a good man; he joined the _Triad_ and it was _voluntarily_ at that). He was just pragmatic enough to cave in to that quirk (pride? Foolishness?) and avoid any uncomfortable dilemma. He volunteered to do the books and various other paperwork instead of any other task. It didn’t matter that all the accounting he knew came from two or three classes; most recruits don’t even write much less know about double-entry bookkeeping. As his boss had laughed and wondered more than once about why a man with a fancy-ass degree like him still ended up in a gang, that post was an automatic win for him.

He had sarcastically assured his mother that he had job security.

He didn’t mention that it didn’t matter that the boss wouldn’t mind employing all of them for ten years or more—the hard part was surviving for that long.

This was why he ended up at a different part of town, as he’d been doing recently.

At first, it was his friends and fellow captains who’d recommend _the Two Queens_ as solid joint. Good entertainment. Great drinks. People turning a blind eye to a lot of things short of a fight. For some reason the place managed to survive this far without getting taken over by anyone, and he couldn’t help but be mildly impressed at that.

The first time he was there, he had been surprised that the black-and-white checkered floor at the lobby was real marble, or how professional the staff was. The lady of the house was a right Sheba, able to burn you up with that half-lidded green glance of hers—something that would pull the more weak-witted men. The first time he saw her, he couldn’t help but shook his head and feel that she was an accident waiting to happen. A woman looking like _that_ running a place this large in a rougher spot in this city? The mobsters would eat her alive. She’d be someone’s moll soon enough. A few more visits to the place showed that she had no problem chewing out men larger than her without blinking and he stopped wondering how the place managed so far. All her loyal robot staff probably helped too.

The other lady of the house was a friendlier dame, less of an untouchable queen that her sister was and more like the nice girl next door. Didn’t stop her from throwing that stupid drunk coming on to her over her shoulder, though (textbook judo throw, the martial-artist in him analysed in that moment… though that joint lock looks more aikido). He did wonder where she learned that, half-hoping if he could see her in one of the various dojo he visited.

The ladies could handle themselves, he concluded with not a little surprise.

This was why he could leave his worries by the door once he entered the speakeasy and just drift to his usual table, blinking his eyes as he drifted through the occasional cloud of cigarette or cigar smoke. Vision was working the floor today for some reason, and he accompanied Julius there to take off the ‘reserved’ sign placed there.

 _How did you even know—thank you_. He was too startled to say much else.

The robot nodded. _You have been here for four weekends already at the same hour. It_ is _a noticeable pattern, Mr. Lung, that I’ve begun to prepare for it_.

He nodded back and reminded himself to increase his tip. He had no idea why some people feel uncomfortable with robots trying to join society. He himself preferred them as they certainly wouldn’t stare at his blond hair like many people would. It got tiring real fast and he wasn’t interested in hanging a plank around his neck that said ‘ _yes, this is my actual hair colour_ ’ and ‘ _no, I didn’t dye my hair_ ’. He also _won’t_ dye it black.

His hair was no one’s damned business but his.

He made good time with his supper and the drinks he requested after that. It couldn’t have been ten minutes after he finished his first glass when he saw several of the off-duty staff eyeing him. He sighed. He’d gotten to know them over the days, and even if they weren’t exactly friends yet, they were good acquaintances. He especially didn’t mind them dropping in at his table and giving him some off-the-book work, providing him with extra funds, but he _did_ rather want more time to himself today than most.

Any further thoughts he might have disappeared when he saw the lady herself sit on the chair in front of him. He hadn’t even seen her approach! The capelet she wore over her shoulder shimmered with shot silver threads, its collar of riotous feathers adding giving her an even more ethereal impression than usual. The barest hint of her perfume reminded him of his grandparent’s jasmine shrubs in Hong Kong.

A woman that might as well have stepped out of a dream. It rendered him speechless for three seconds.

_You’re Julius Lung, correct?_

He cleared his throat to regain his balance. _Yes, yes I am_.

 _I’ve heard intriguing things about you from the girls_ , she said. It couldn’t be his random flirting, could it? That was just to let out some steam. It wasn’t as if he was that careless or brazen with the girls here. She didn’t seem mad about anything, so he allowed himself to relax.

That was when she pushed forward several yellow strips of paper on the table. Red calligraphy marked their surface—he could recognise the handwriting anywhere because it was _his_.

He cleared his throat, not knowing what she was trying to say. _Err, Ma’am?_

 _Sui Li and Xiao Fan praised you for being able to make some talismans_ , she stated calmly. _Among others._

 _My father was a Taoist priest_ , he said, by way of explanation. _Ma’am_.

Well, his father was an accountant who moonlighted as a Taoist priest because he kept himself rooted deeply in the Old Country even after he’d arrived here, but it was simpler to just put it that way.

_He wanted you to enter the family business, then?_

He shrugged, still uneasy to blatantly talk about it. _What father doesn’t?_

The woman in front of him nodded, crimson lips curving slightly in his favour. Something about that particular shade drew him in, like her dark hair that she kept long, regardless of fashion (his imagination, though, seems to prefer waist-length). He shook himself and look away. She was not a woman one deals without a tight grip on one’s wits. He was usually more cautious than this.

 _And you’ve learned well. I wouldn’t have known about it if the goblins hadn’t complained that some rooms were suddenly off-limits to them. I had to bring many more people into my confidence about it, explain that just because there are dangerous things that go bump in the night does not mean that you want to ward against all the odd critters living in the demimonde_.

A sharp intake of breath stopped her explanation, leaving only an amused smile. He’d realised then that it was _his_ breath.

Surely, he could be excused. Not every man gets to suddenly see little goblins every day—the club was crawling with them.

He had no idea how he’d missed them before.

There were _creatures_ standing up at waist-height, some lucky enough to be taller than that. Their faces were variations from the ugly-cute and plain grotesque; some sporting a horn where others had two, most none at all. Their hides were anything from grey to tan to brown. They carried orders, slipping between their taller co-workers as they bustle tables. They casually climbed barriers and jumped down from them without thought. Another was casually throwing equipment off the stage to someone he couldn’t see on the other side—from the lack of any crashing sound, his or her partner must have caught it with the deftness of an acrobat.

Another brought them drinks. She easily poured for both of them and gave the goblin her thanks after returning the bottle.

Julius stared at her with some measure of disbelief. Does this mean that she was a witch? It would explain the easy control she held over her business. She gave a languid wave of her hand.

 _Don’t look so surprised. For a man who was trained by a priest, you seem too gullible_.

 _Because magic doesn’t exist!_ He protested.

_Doesn’t it? What of your work, then?_

_That was…_

No, he had no explanation. He did it exactly as his father taught him simply because he was a consummate professional. He might not really believe it, but the people who asked him for it do, and so he’d perform to the best of their requests. Besides, any work with calligraphy was calming to him, a bit like meditating.

She tapped the charm she’d set on the table.

_Well, plenty of time for you to get used to it later. For now, though, I have a commission for you. You see, I’d like something stronger than this. I wanted it to be a containment one, just like this broad-spectrum repelling charms you make, the difference being that I also wish for some extensive additions to it._

She paused, and then she seemed to have made up her mind and spoke up again. _I want to key a room’s barrier to a particular person…_

 _I can’t make anything that would hurt humans,_ he blurted out.

Well, technically, he _can_. It would just mean jumping headlong into blood magic. Even at his most disbelieving, he didn’t want to touch it with a ten feet pole. Now? He’d rather bump someone off with classic lead poisoning. What with the turf wars abounding between the different crime syndicates, it might not even be the first time his shots actually connected fatally.

 _Oh, I_ know _._

She smiled and her lips looked so _bloody_ from where he was sitting that he almost couldn’t believe it was mere lipstick. He cursed himself for actually being attracted to women who had the ability to ground their opposition under pointed heels. It wasn’t her fault that his subconscious had no sense of self-preservation.

_I think this would suffice._

She reached under the collar of her dress and pulled out a leather bag at the end of a silver chain. She took the necklace off and he accepted it.

 _Don’t lose it, though, and nothing that would do permanent harm to that bag and its contents_.

He didn’t understand what he saw when he peeked inside. White feathers?

_Is there a problem, Mr. Lung?_

Well, he was paid for this, wasn’t he? Why would he start asking questions now?

 _…no, not really. I don’t think there’d be any problem at all. It_ would _be costly, though._

_Well, then, let’s get started on the details. The first thing that I want to work with is a box that is also the room…_

‘-

 _There’s a disturbance, Lady_ ,

One of the smarter goblins in her employ had walked up to her table with the news, black eyes sharp and aware. Sarah glanced down to the dance floor. She saw the dense crowd, but she didn’t notice any problem.

 _Seems like Vision had it under control_ , she mused.

 _No, it’s the other-Lady_ , Wigbehrt said, standing so straight that he would do his livery proud—more than any human would. _She has an Argument_.

Sarah could hear the Capitalised Letters in his statement and felt that they should mean something. Not that she had any idea what that something was.

 _It’s not as if it’s violent, is it?_ She mused out loud, but she stood up and made her way all the same. The goblin shook his head.

_It isn’t, but it’s…_

_It’s what?_

_He is concerning, that’s what he is. We don’t know what he is and we don’t like it_. He was speaking for many goblins now, and even if they exasperate her individually, she took their combined worries seriously.

 _Lead the way, Wigbehrt_.

 _Of course, my Lady_.

Weaving through the crowds and avoiding the occasional feathers stuck in turbans were second nature to her. It was the same way she didn’t need to think to rap a wandering hand or three with the cigarette holder she held in her hand, the smile of an angel ready on her lips to buy forgiveness for something that should be her right in the first place. Just because a beautiful single woman that doesn’t allow liberties seems to be as mythical as a unicorn to most people.

The goblin lead her to the edges—not to the tables as she’d thought before, but in the direction of the supposedly-non-functional bar. She noticed then that there were fewer people around there than usual; it was odd because the bar was one of the high-demand seats. Usually, not many would be open on a good night.

 _I suppose the bar doesn’t have a trailing shadow over it on most nights, though_ , Sarah mused out loud.

The goblin was clasping his hands tightly that she worried his sharp nails were going to break even his thick hide.

 _Yes, we don’t like that drifting dark_.

If she didn’t know where all the lighting was placed in the club, she would’ve thought that several lights were somehow out at one end of the bar, leaving it in darkness. Yet the bar itself had lights on its cabinets—it would be impossible for any place on the counter to be hard to stare at by anyone serving the drinks. That was on purpose.

The argument was also starting to reach her ear. Wigbehrt was smart enough to make himself scarce from that point on and Sarah didn’t blame him.

_…if you prefer not to talk to me, then leave me to drink in peace._

_You’re kidding, right? After all the crap you’ve pulled, that’s_ all _you’re going to say? No explanation, no_ anything _?_

 _What good is any explanation if you won’t even listen?_ Sarah didn’t imagine the bitterness in that voice.

There was a gasp. _I did! I sure as hell listened! How the heck do I even know you’re helping the blue giants in their turf war otherwise?_

_For the last time, Litavindr…_

Turf war? Sarah remembered the tensions rising in the dream city just now. It was a good thing that Sarah had started to do checks in her waking hour once she realised that some of her dreams were episodic. Learning how to enter lucid dreaming was certainly paying off now. She’d noticed the nature of her current reality rather quickly. She’d certainly experimented with manipulating her surroundings before. It was why she contracted that triad clerical staff guy, mainly because she had a need and she’d heard some of the girls waxing poetic about his work. Compared to the other practitioners of magic she’d heard, courtesy of backstage gossip, his work had been some of the best.

Darcy was _still_ reaming at the guy she was talking to.

 _Are you going to pretend_ that _isn’t what you’re doing here? Look, there’s been some shitty things in this city, but not at the scale of clusterfuck you’ve just brought down!_

 _Yes, blame the wizard and not the buffoon leading his army, don’t you?_ He snapped. _Blame the blacksmiths for working swords and spear heads while you’re at it too_.

There was an honest-to-goodness growl that came out of Darcy’s throat, of all things.

 _That’s not what I—urgh, you’re so_ frustrating _sometimes, you know?_

Sarah stood not a foot away from her furious friend and the gentleman dressed sharply in black. Shadows clung to him easily like a second skin. There was an almost incongruously cheerful scarf around his neck—yet somehow he made it work as a perfect accent.

 _And what name would this wizard have?_ Sarah asked. She gained the attention of the two of them for the first time. The brunette gave a firm tap on Darcy’s shoulder and whispered that they’re both dreaming this, adding an offhand comment about how she missed having computers to do the account books in this era.

The wizard gave his alias without a thought before he’d even turned to her.

 _Coroné_.

When he _did_ fully turn around to face her, his lower jaw dropped slightly.

 _We meet again, kidnapper_ , Sarah greeted with all the cheerfulness she could muster and all the poison she could put into her smile. _I never thought I’ll see you again this soon. Not before I manage to free myself either._

From the way that Darcy shook her head, it would seem that she’d managed to gain lucidity in time.

 _Kidnapper?_ She asked at the man in front of her.

 _Fancy seeing you here with the dearest sister of my heart_. Sarah said, laying it thickly for him. _I suppose you didn’t know, did you?_

 _I’m dreaming this, aren’t I?_ At the back of his voice was the beginnings of dread.

Sarah’s smile turned wider. Three lucid dreamers now. Let it not be said that she wouldn’t stick a knife in at a fallen foe. Not when she hadn’t taken her pound of flesh.

 _Just because it’s a dream, doesn’t mean it’s not real_. Sarah said. It was Darcy’s turn to pin her disbelieving stare on Coroné.

 _Did you kidnap_ Spike _, Lope? You kidnapped my_ best friend _, didn’t you?_

 _I have no wish to kidnap her_ , he insisted, eyes still wide open.

Sarah was not so forgiving in her reply. _No, you only wished to exchange favours—and someone else asked you to kidnap me for that. It was why you decided to just go ahead with it. Isn’t that right?_

 _What fucked up mess are you involved in_ now _?_ Darcy had started to raise her voice.

 _Your friend is safe, Ikhne! You can see for yourself,_ he asserted. Indeed, Darcy turned worriedly to Sarah and seemed appeased by her presence as Sarah linked their hands together without thought.

Sarah had to admit that he was good. However, she could be cruel when her people were hurt—and Sarah wasn’t imagining the slight waver in Darcy’s voice.

 _Well, you know how wizards are_ , Sarah said slowly, clearly, waiting until she had their full attention.

That verbal stab she’d given him before? It was nothing. Now, she was going to twist that knife in the wound.

_Maybe there’s this epic spell they heard that someone else has that they need to learn, or some ancient artefacts they need to activate. I mean, if one of them asks for a nubile young maiden to trade for a spell, well, that’s a pretty cheap price to pay for the power to flatten cities, isn’t it?_

Sarah was unfazed by his pallor. Well, you learn the habits of a few wizards, you learn them all, she supposed.

_I was close, wasn’t I?_

She was only concerned in holding Darcy’s hand tighter than before when she heard a choked sound from her best friend. Add the trembling hand in her own was also making her coldly _angry_.

 _You couldn’t be any safer if I tried_ , he replied quickly, _there is scarce any place safer, any sanctuary more untouchable than the kingdom you’re in right now_.

Sarah’s arguments had honed themselves into blades even as he spoke. He had no chance against her.

_And I was nothing less than a token you traded in. Don’t even pretend I’m worth something more to you, Sorcerer, than pack of cigarettes an inmate exchanges for other goods in prison._

Sarah smiled. _I’m just currency, right?_

It would be easy to break the ties between Darcy and this mysterious wizard. Clearly, he valued Darcy’s good opinion, and in turn, that meant he needed Sarah’s. On the other hand, Sarah knew enough of his transgressions to let the truth scour her friend’s heart, to bleach what compassion she may have had before.

From the paleness of his skin, he was clearly aware that he was between the devil and the deep blue sea.

 _I swear that were there any prior journey where I had to escort you, I safeguarded you with my own life_.

Her brows furrowed slightly at how he was still standing up for himself, even when he knew he was in the wrong. He had not lied either, damn him, which showed the level of care he put in into his concerns. It probably had something to do with the increasingly desperate looks he was sending Darcy, begging her to look his way. Unfortunately for him, her friend wasn’t seeing them because she was too busy closing her eyes and rubbing her forehead—or looking down at her shoes. _Hmm_. He was much more resilient than the other less-worthy men Darcy had dated before. This was a mild annoyance.

Luckily for her kidnapper, another voice cut in before Sarah could tear into him again and show just why Darcy nicknamed her Spike.

 _That’s enough, Precious. Your quarrel is with me, isn’t it? Not him. He merely has the misfortune to run an errand for me and crossed you_.

Where Coroné had been dark, their newest visitor was in a vibrant blue tailcoat with a boutonnière of asphodel in his pocket. His mismatched blue eyes seem paler in comparison. Instead of neatly slicked, the riot of hair on his head was only redirected back; a slightly-ordered explosion of thistledown hair. Instead of trousers, he wore riding breeches and knee-high boots. His appearance was always just a little off, a veneer of civilisation over his actual self.

She understood that aspect of him perfectly now where she hadn’t before.

 _Tyto_ , Coroné greeted him. Sarah could hear relief in that one word.

 _Coroné_. His reply was a sombre nod.

 _How nice of you to join us_ , Sarah replied, her voice all sharp politeness even as she channelled the perfect hostess.

Tyto cocked his head casually. _We’d have to meet each other sooner or later, Dearest. Let us sit down and talk properly._

_I know._

She ignored his casual use of endearment. For all her annoyance, she had to admit his prudence in avoiding using her name.

 _But I’ll take my insurance where I can_. _Wigbehrt!_

The last name was uttered in a snap. Neither Darcy nor her other two guests had gotten over their surprise when many goblins came out seemingly out of the woodwork carrying an explosion of oriental silk screens around them. Most were elegant maple trees with leaves of flame painted their surface, some added painted on windows or doors that made it seem the landscape was a view from a room. The rich detail was beyond what was required from even the grandest stages. A long expanse of screens unfurled like a curtain, cutting off the view of the cabinets behind from the bar. Another set of screens unfolded in parallel behind Sarah and Darcy’s back, closing the view of the club’s floor. The final two slid some distance from their sides, joining the ends of first screens together to enclose them within a box.

The last one was a ceiling to top the box.

That was when everyone else other than Sarah noticed the script painted around their borders and the floor suddenly glowing with the same script of eastern origins, one more fluid and older than the Han characters of recent times.

As the screens sealed them into a new room completely, the laughter and conversation on the dance floor seemed to have faded away in the background with the arrival of autumn wind.

Sarah smiled.

_Now, let’s talk._

‘-

Sarah was serving tea from a Ming dynasty teapot, translucently patterned with clouds in several mesmerising shades of blue. It was so finely wrought that Darcy almost had the thought that it would float away if not held or anchored, delicate as air. There were four matching teacups on the circular table.

The double doors of the sitting room were opened to a well-tended traditional courtyard, allowing cool breeze to pass—a light scent of jasmine hovered in the chamber along with other fragrances from the garden. One could even hear the running water from the stream winding its way around miniature hills. The flaming foliage of the grove of maple trees cast a warming glow into the room, an illusion of an eternal sunset.

Darcy blinked.

The four of them were in a Chinese-style sitting room. On one wall was a panoramic watercolour painting of granite mountains rising above a sea of fog and clouds. Darcy sat up in disbelief.

_How the heck are we here?!_

No one commented on her outburst.

Sarah’s…guest, the pale-haired man, thanked Sarah politely and took his tea. A wary Loki with keen eyes did the same and raised his cup as well. Darcy followed Sarah’s move as she took hers simply because she had no idea what to do. The chrysanthemum tea she had just sipped helped settled her nerves a little.

 _It’s a bit much, isn’t it, to offer parley while imprisoning the other party?_ Tyto asked.

 _It is only imprisoning if, were you to ask to leave, I decide not to allow you to_. Sarah replied.

_If I would ask for leave right now?_

_Leave will not be given for now_ , was her answer. _Yet finish the talk, and even I would not be able to hold you back. Viewed that way, the ward is merely a temporary inconvenience, isn’t it?_ Sarah quirked her blood red lips.

 _And we will stay here, under your hospitality…_ he let his words trail. Sarah picked it up easily.

 _...for as long as it takes to come to an agreement_.

Loki’s sharp intake of breath came first, his chair pushed back with the force of his surprise.

 _This is_ insane _! To stay for days in the Dreaming may mean a nap of a few hours…or a few weeks, It is difficult to be sure. We may not exactly die, but to be severely weakened or ill is very possible—and that is before we consider the menaces that stalk the In-Between that may find its way here_. He objected.

 _I’m sure our gracious hostess intended for it to be that way_ , Tyto’s voice was dry as dust. _Since she has Bound the ward’s existence to this Meet, she will also be unable to leave this room without breaking it. The simplicity of constructing it without entrances and exits meant it does not have those weak points either. It is far stronger than it seems_.

 _Wait, you’re_ imprisoning _the four of us_ here??

Darcy turned to her long-time friend, still slowly sipping her tea.

 _Of course not. We won’t be here for too long_ , Sarah shrugged. She glanced across the table from her drink. _Won’t we, Your Majesty?_

 _I will always follow your moves, my Lady_.

His voice was still too calm for Darcy’s liking. Too cold, like his strangely mismatched eyes.

‘-

How in the _Nine Realms_ was Loki supposed to know that his friend was entangled with a dangerously competent, suicidal woman?

A human that’s also a blasted dreamwalker, _seriously?_ Where does Jareth find her? And why in the name of all the Rivers of Niflheim does Darcy even know her?

She had locked herself in a slice of her dream world and swallowed the key simply to capture the King of the Goblins. He was probably a mere bonus for her, considering that they were scarcely well-acquainted with each other. She was not concerned about her own starvation, or wasting away, or illness or _death_. He knew this in the first seconds of meeting her tranquil green eyes in this autumn sitting room.

No fear or regrets mar them.

Her anger had all the sharpness of frostbite and the vengeful patience of winter.

Had he known this beforehand he’d have been more cautious in his dealing and bargained for something else with Jareth. Even if it meant running the gauntlet of the dwarves.

If she’d known the King of the Goblins’ identity, she should’ve known that there was no way she was going to outlast either him or Loki. Physically, a human would waste away far sooner than an Alvar or an Asgardian. Not to mention that she might not see her family again if she died now.

She still did not look as if she gave a damn.

The brunette-that-wasn’t-his had broken off from her stare-off with the King of the Goblins and turned her gaze towards him.

 _I’m not about to forget about you either, Kidnapper Number Two. I’ll grill the royal ass for his crap for a while, but I’ll get to you sooner or later after_.

He knew she was human. It didn’t make her any less threatening. He raised his cup politely.

_Well, it’s not as if anyone’s going anywhere, is it?_

‘-

Darcy’s brain felt as if it had crashed more than once now, as more and more thoughts looped themselves endlessly, taking up space until she felt she could hardly _breathe_. The conversations, the arguments and counter-arguments washed over her as one surprise after another came.

Every thought in her mind was springing a memory leak and it was better to just reboot quickly. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be able to play catch up with every other pain-in-the-ass players on the table. What was this kidnapping Sarah crap everyone else seems to know about that she doesn’t? And why the _hell_ would Loki kidnap Sarah? She wanted to get pissed off at him—she was pretty sure he deserved it, but going in without knowing all the stories sounds like a very good way of messing things up. There was the even creepier thought that Sarah had just pulled some sort of magic trick with this Chinese sitting room. She was pretty sure Loki wasn’t kidding when he said that Sarah had locked them _all_ in dreamland, and they had no other way of waking up until Sarah opened the ward around them herself.

It was hard to admit this even to herself, but she had to say that _this_ Sarah kind of scared her. Well, only a bit, but it was something. Did her friend change in a few years, or did she just miss it all this time?

Tory had always said that the first step before you even act, before you even make a plan, is to take a stock of your resources and what you know and collect some intel. She might have sucked at doing that even at the early years of college, but she was kinda better now.

Time for her to woman up—she could always panic later.

This was like the one time she was drunk and a college friend asked her to take over her position on the card table, handing over her hand just like that. She didn’t even have the slightest idea if it was poker, blackjack or _go fish_.

 _As nice as this is, would someone_ please _do the introductions?_ Darcy raised her voice.

Three pairs of eyes turned to her now. Darcy took a calming breath, but she held their gazes easily. Compared to sitting down across Tyr, this was doable. Surprisingly, Loki spoke up before Sarah.

 _Ikhne, this is a good friend of mine, Tyto, Rex. Tyto, this is Lady Ikhneumon_.

_Rex?_

_He’s der Wichtkönig himself_ , Loki said.

 _King,_ Sarah clarified for her without batting an eyelash. _He’s a king_.

Sarah said it so simply, as if it was another fact of life like ‘I’m doing laundry on Saturday’ or ‘We’ve run out of milk again, Darcy’. Her friend was on glaring terms with some sort of non-human _king_. There was also something vaguely familiar about said king’s voice.

 _A pleasure to meet you, Lady Ikhneumon_.

_Um. You too. A pleasure, I mean._

Well. Blondie certainly got the arrogant bit down pat, Darcy thought. He had dropped himself bonelessly on his chair. Said king was splitting his attention between the violet scarf around Loki’s neck and Darcy. His eyes sparked with mild amusement.

_Ah, Ikhneumon, is it? I understand. If she is Lady Ikhneumon, then you’d be Lady Peregrine, wouldn’t you, Precious? You certainly left enough clues._

There was a slight frown on Sarah’s face, until Tyto gestured to the feathers at the collar of her capelet. The brunette did run her fingers through the feathers with curiosity for a while.

 _Peregrine feathers. To wit, Lady Peregrine, this is a…friend of mine, Coroné, Principe. Coroné, this is Lady Peregrine, Champion_.

Darcy stared at her friend, trying to wrap her head around what she’d heard. _Tyto, Rex_ meant Tyto was King. She _knew_ Loki was a prince, so she could guess that it was what _Principe_ meant. It sounds pretty similar too. But what was this about Sarah being a Champion?

 _Champion?_ She asked.

Sarah sighed, looking more than a little apologetic. _It’s a long and complicated story. Not to mention that I’ve managed to convince myself it wasn’t real until a bit later in college_.

Darcy had a flash of insight _Head-screwy stuff?_

Sarah nodded. _Yeah. It ties in with the head-screwy stuff._

_So. Right after this is fine, right?_

_Sure._

Loki cleared his throat. _Excuse me—_

 _So!_ Darcy cut in with relentless cheer as she turned back to the guys in the room. _I’m still new at this dream walking shit, not like most of you guys. If Sarah didn’t snap me out of it before, I don’t think I’d even realised it until I woke up again. I’ll just check out some basic rules with you guys, if you don’t mind. First, don’t use real names except in real dreams, right? Because at least you know there’s only you, there_.

 _But it’s not easy to distinguish whether you’re in a personal dream and whether you’ve wandered the In-Between_ , Tyto added. If he was surprised by her bluntness, it didn’t show on his face at all.

_Yeah, so that’s why it’s better to just stick with nicknames all the way, right?_

She got two nods and a noncommittal expression for that.

 _Great. Now, what’s with the title thing? Is it_ really _important to know who’s who instead of just giving names?_ She asked.

 _A person wearing a crown in a dream need not be introduced as a king for anyone to know his role there,_ Loki replied. _Yet if someone remembers to provide you a clue to their waking self, then you know that they are a_ dreamwalker _instead of a mere dreamer._

 _So, the title is just a clue…thing_.

There was a slight tic at Loki’s left eye at Darcy’s casual mangling of grammar. _Yes._

 _Then again, they might just be lying through their teeth_ , _or as delusional in their dreams as in their waking_. Tyto replied, unrepentant in crashing Darcy’s easy answers.

It got him a nonplussed snort from Loki.

_Oh, we are quite aware that you’re a rare dreamweaver, Tyto. There is no need to drown us in metaphysical theories. Ikhne’s merely looking for some basic rules, and she’s not wrong._

He turned to Darcy. _Most people aren’t quite self-aware in their dream world—a dream is usually flatter than the real one, and this applies even to personalities. Odds are, anyone that can tell such a bald-faced lie is also a dreamwalker_.

Well. That was useful to know, wasn’t it? Darcy nodded as she soaked it in. The nice cooling breeze blew in from the courtyard, carrying the scent of jasmine blossoms with it. A maple leaf or two floated down to the table from the open windows. Loki saw her empty cup and took the initiative to pour more; she said her thanks to him without thinking.

 _That’s good to know! Also, since I’m apparently in the company of kings and princes, I guess I’ll have to add some chips to the pot, somehow. I’m in ambassador. Ambassadoress? Is that a word? Anyway, it’s that position_.

 _You’re an ambassador?_ Loki was surprised. He put down the teapot slightly harder than necessary. It was easily eclipsed by the high-pitched sounds coming out of Sarah as she glomped her friend.

_Congratulations! You go girl! I’m so proud of you!_

Darcy laughed and hugged her friend back. _Technically I’m ‘just’ a CDA, but it’s just a matter of time._

There was a crease at Sarah’s brow. _If you’re an ambassador…why is your position kinda classified?_

_Classified?_

_Yeah. I dropped in at Stark Tower, y’know? Stark said he couldn’t tell me where you are. What’s so hard about giving me the name of the country._

Darcy’s smile turned awkward as she dodged the weight of Sarah’s inquisitive look. _Eeeh,_ that _. Weeell, it’s not a run-of-the-mill post, that’s for sure._

_Darcy?_

_ImightbetheambassadortoAsgardrightnow_.

Trust Loki to be able to make out something out of the babble as he sat straighter. His voice was oddly soft. _Asgard? You were sent to_ Asgard _?_

_Yep._

_Why did you not tell me? You could have told me._ Loki asked.

 _I just got kicked upstairs while I was trying to run for my life! I’m trying to hard not to drown in Nine Realm politics, so much that I don’t think I even had time to_ breathe. Darcy snapped. _I’m not taking crap from you. There’s enough in my life already_.

Loki shook his head slowly, his cup held aloft for so long that he might’ve forgotten about it. With manners probably drilled into him since childhood, he looked elegant instead of foolish; the very picture of a gentleman scholar lost in thought.

_No. It’s too soon. There are many things you are unaware of. Lacking enough experience, you cannot wield the post effectively yet—a position that high only makes you a target in this instance. It would be better if you were an assistant to a senior diplomat instead._

_To learn on the frickin’ job before taking it up. Yes, I get it. Modern-style apprenticeship. Woooo!_ She threw her hands up. _I think it’s a_ great _idea. Fucking_ Fantastic _Idea. Thing is, it’s one of those pretty plans that’s perfect during peace. But we all know that any slo-mo shit gets scrapped the second a war starts shoving people through the meat grinder._

Darcy felt like dropping her face into her hands and start massaging the pressure points around her head. She was starting to get a headache.

_Why do you think I’d even get assigned an easy job, what with your ass-backward war already underway?_

Oh, she knew that Loki took issue with her calling the frost giant’s offensive ‘his war’, as he probably still felt that he was just another free agent in this mess. She didn’t want to let him avoid responsibility so easily, though, not when she knew he would’ve known better. His eyes had burned an eerie green, embers flickering brighter the longer they kept trading words. If Tyto hadn’t held him back, she had no doubt that he’d continue their argument.

 _We can address that later_ , the Alvar intervened. _There’s plenty of time to hack at each other later._

This time, it was Sarah’s turn to be surprised. She’d turned, almost unwillingly, at Darcy’s words.

_War? What war are you talking about?_

The other three occupants on the table eyed her with differing measures of pity and sympathy.

 _The Frost Giants are marching on North America_. Tyto said. _Not that anyone’s surprised. Just another invasion._

Darcy took the teacup from Sarah’s hand before she dropped it, placing it safely on the table. She held Sarah’s closest hand in hers, trying to convince herself that it wasn’t tremors that she felt.

_N-no…_

_It’s not the first inter-realm invasion I’ve seen and I doubt it would be the last. Boudicca managed the frost giants just fine a millennium or so ago_ , Tyto’s preternatural calm broke through the daze that had ensnared Sarah. _I thought you were about to complain about my kidnapping?_

Her glare would have chilled any other man.

 _Yes, let’s talk about your kidnapping of me. Get me back home or I’ll twist the ward to do something painful to you_.

He grinned instead. For someone who was caught in a mousetrap, he had too much cheer. It was clear that he was just a hair from the borders of madness.

_Go ahead. Before we get to that, does it mean that you want to renounce your last claim, Champion?_

Sarah paused. _What do you mean?_

 _You said, and I quote, “You have no power over me.” I can’t get you home. I can’t do_ anything _to you. You made it so yourself, remember? That includes transporting you anywhere._

_Not even with my permission?_

He shrugged. _You said “you have no power over me,” not, “he only has power over me if I haven’t used the safeword.” You should’ve put in a clause for it, then_.

When Tyto spoke again, his voice was soft and his eyes were piercing.

 _Checkmate. Your move, Precious_.

Sarah narrowed her eyes at him.

Loki shook his head quickly before Sarah started to demand things of him. _It is also beyond my abilities. The only way I had managed to cross such distances before was simply due to the power that Tyto had provided_.

She turned back to the fae king, eyes carefully narrowed.

 _Give him enough power to do it_.

 _Guys, GUYS! God, we’re going to be here forever at this rate, and I’m_ not _looking forward to starving my body to death while y’all hold an eternal bitchfest!_ Darcy complained. She stared down the freaky king from who-knows-where dreamland with the mismatched eyes before turning to her friend.

 _Sarah, before you start grabbing people by the balls and squeezing them, why not just_ ask _the fairy rocker dude_ why _he did it in the first place? There’s no negotiation when you don’t even know the demands!_

_This isn’t a negotiation—_

Darcy snorted. _Yes; yes, it is. No one has overwhelming advantage and we’re at a Mexican standoff. This the textbook case of the kind of shit that negotiators are sent into_.

 _Fine._ Sarah was a tad grumpy, but she knew her friend was right. She eyed the blond across from her.

_Why?_

_Why what?_

Sarah scoffed. _Oh, don’t get cute now, Birdbrain. What’s with the kidnapping?_

 _Again, I didn’t kidnap you, as Coroné_ _can testify_ , he replied, easy as-you-please, while he leaned back in his chair, _is there any way we can order food from here? We might as well request a meal to be served for now—this will take a while._

Darcy decided to step in before her friend decided to damn it all to hell and jump across the table to strangle him, priceless Ming dynasty tea set notwithstanding. That cocky smirk he was wearing couldn’t have helped her mood. The brunette certainly looked as if she wanted to shoot lasers from her eyes with that glare. Darcy lowered her voice and spoke closely to Sarah’s ear.

 _Fifth Rule of Nine Realms diplomacy: Do not try to out-argue semantics with elves. You’ll lose, you’d be pissed off enough to be burning all dictionaries you can find and you’re_ still _not better off than before._

Sarah was curious. _There’s rules?_

 _Well, there’d be those Rules once I finished writing my memoir_ , Darcy replied, grimly. _If_ only _I lived long enough to do that, which I’m beginning to doubt now_.

 _What’s the first one?_ Sarah asked curiously.

 _Always have an escape plan—and I didn’t even get_ that _right_ , was Darcy’s morbid reply. She then returned to the conversation on the table.

 _You wanted Sarah to be somewhere else—your kingdom, is that right?_ She looked to Loki for confirmation, since she had a feeling he’d be less twisty to deal with than his friend. She was glad that he easily nodded in reply before she focused on the elven king once more.

_Why is that, Tyto?_

_It wasn’t a matter of getting her to visit my kingdom_ , he replied. _It was a matter of getting her to visit_ hers _._

Loki seemed to be just as surprised as Darcy. His eyes darted rapidly between Sarah and Tyto, his mind trying to make sense of it. _Hers? Surely you jest?_

Sarah’s face seemed to be doing a good impression of a tomato.

_For the last time, I’m not marrying you!_

Hell, does that mean that he’d proposed to her before and she’d turned him down? Oh, bugger. Sarah was on a roll, though.

_Are you that desperate to find a wife? I’m sure there’s enough social climbers in the courts for you to pick a random airhead that’s beautiful enough to sleep with. Hell, I’m sure you can even find one with dark hair and green eyes. Or do you need my measurements too, just to be more accurate?_

To his credit, the fae kept his cool. Darcy’s eyes couldn’t be fooled, though. She saw him flinch, a flash of pain in those blue eyes, before he locked it all away under that impassive gaze once more. They had History with a capital H. It was a dirty pool that Darcy didn’t want to wade into. Even in college she’d made it a policy to never get between friends that were having the bad, backstabby brand of break-up.

They tend to bring half the world down with them.

Loki hadn’t said a word, but she wouldn’t make the mistake of thinking that he was too overwhelmed. The gleam and quick movement of his eyes told her that he was observing, meticulously cataloguing words spoken and unspoken sent back and forth between his friend and Sarah. Since Darcy was pretty sure she’d be the first to die if none of them can wake up, she had no other choice but be the best damned mediator she could be and then some.

This includes asking questions that would clarify shit, even if the question themselves don’t make a lick of sense.

_Where’s her kingdom?_

The answer she received was too casual. _In the Underground_.

She ignored Sarah’s litany of complaints and not a small amount of insults. She ignored the muscles clenching at Tyto’s jaw as he finally had enough and started cutting back with words.

This was because her attention was on Loki, who was being unexpected helpful. _That’s the name of a part of the Realm of Alfheim, albeit rather…unconventionally located that not many people even know of its existence_.

Her reply was an eloquent _huh_. Loki did not seem to mind as he nodded and continued.

 _At times, you can say that it does not exist and you would be right. At other times, you can say that it does not exist and you would be wrong_.

_You’re telling me it’s a Schrodinger’s Kingdom??_

_Well, it has never been a conventional kingdom in the first place. It was Wild Lands, you see? Borderlands too. No one knew what Tyr was thinking of when he incorporated the area into an actual kingdom and it had been left mostly alone back in the dawn of history._ She could see from the way his gaze drifted in the far distance that he was looking inward, browsing through his memories. _Now that I think about it, I’m not sure that it’s on_ this _side of the Yggdrasil either…_

That was when the rising argument between the other two people in the room made it impossible to talk. There was something that Darcy didn’t like about the way Sarah tore into the man, or how he never once denied that he felt something for her. It was Tyto’s voice that snapped out harshest at last, tolling as clear as a funeral bell.

 _…and I would_ not _need to be at your mercy if you would just give me my entire kingdom!_

Sarah probably hadn’t said anything in sheer confusion. Both she and Tyto were standing up.

 _Do you think I_ want _to do this? To be infected with this eternal brain fever, to be driven for what few crumbs you deign to give me and_ still _count that as my good fortune?_ His voice had a raw edge.

Darcy had the uncomfortable feeling that they’re not just talking about kingdoms anymore. And was it just her feeling, or was his hair lighter and even more feathery than before?

_Alright! Break it up, people!_

She stood up as well, standing right by Sarah’s side.

 _And Spike, that was some seriously nasty shit you’re slinging. What the hell is up with you? Why not just kick him in the balls—it would hurt_ less _._

 _I concur with that_ , Tyto unexpectedly replied with a challenge in his voice. _Stab me and be done with it. This place is your own construction. I’m sure a weapon can be had easily here._

Darcy didn’t give Sarah an opportunity to take him up on his offer.

 _So, Tyto, maybe you might want to tell us just_ how _you don’t have your entire kingdom right now?_ Darcy inserted herself into the conversation. _If you want me to negotiate for what you need, it’s time that you start telling me about what problems you’re having and how Sarah comes into this. I_ am _a diplomat, y’know?_

He actually stopped and took a good look at her. For once, his gaze was unyielding, there was a remote assessment that was vaguely familiar to her, of patience well won from the hands of age and time—where had she seen it before? Another elf, she was sure. There was just something about their agelessness that she’d picked up from her days in the Allthing. It long enough to make her fidget in her seat.

 _You would offer yourself to do that?_ He asked, surprised. He wasn’t the only one, though. Sarah was also staring at her, while Loki didn’t hide his curiosity.

She shrugged and looked away. The surprise and the relief Tyto failed to hide was uncomfortable to see. _Someone has to do it. Negotiator, mediator,_ whatever _. It doesn’t matter. I can do at least this for everyone, so I’ll do it_.

There was something unfathomable in his eyes.

 _Would it not be easier to simply side with your friend?_ He asked. There wasn’t even any accusation in his voice. It was just another question.

 _There are always sides to a story, and I won’t get the closest I can to the truth by only listening to one of them_. She replied. _I’ll do this. I’ll be everyone’s negotiator_.

His reply was firm, his tones formal.

 _Mediator you are out of the kindness of your heart and Negotiator you shall be out of your wisdom. Does anyone object?_ For a moment, Darcy thought she could see a circlet upon his head, brighter and more majestic than the sky at twilight, the crown of his office shone.

Sarah shook her head in an uncertain daze, while Loki answered with a resounding ‘no objection at all’. Tyto turned to her once more after he took in their opinions.

 _So mote it be_.

Was it in the words? She wondered. Or was it the fact that they were all in a dream? She felt the golden threads of _something_ curl and wound around her, of power flowing slowly but surely. He did _something_ , she was sure, but from the way he had sat back down with a grave nod told her that no details would be forthcoming today, at least not without the explanation ending up being cryptic again.

 _Perhaps you should tell the story, Precious_ , Tyto said as he lounged on his seat, now the perfect picture of a gentleman of leisure. _It has always been your story, hasn’t it? And you’ve always cast me as the villain?_

Sarah sent him a _look_ , but had returned to her seat as well by this point. There was a slight interruption when Darcy’s stomach growled and she blushed at the attention. Fortunately, Sarah was understanding and merely clapped her hands; two serving maids suddenly came and took her order for food to accompany tea. Everyone else had stared at the new arrivals in surprise. Darcy thought there was something creepily flat about them, though.

 _I had thought that we were the only living beings here_ , Loki managed to say.

Sarah’s voice was even. _You’re not wrong. They are but paper dolls. The food, however, is real. It had been stocked from the kitchens before the barrier wards were pulled close_.

Darcy didn’t want to know what her friend meant by that. Not right now, not really. There was enough weird shit to deal with and she was trying to take it in manageable doses.

Now, they were all enjoying a spread of dim sum delicacies that were served on the table.

Sarah begun a story of a young woman whose father had just remarried, whose new wife had now given birth to a son. She told of a wild child who chafed under new rules and hated her new responsibilities. She told of a girl who had found an old story book with a red cover, a book that drew her in because it told of a girl who suffered under her evil stepmother. Sarah was already too much into play-acting even then.

Darcy shrugged. _I’m pretty sure I was just as angry when I was a teenager_.

Sarah sighed. _Well, at least you’ve never wished that the goblins come and take your brother away, have you?_

It brought Darcy to a pause because she found it hard to believe. Tobes _adored_ his older sister because she’d always have time for him and listened to his concerns seriously instead of dismissing the words of a child like most adults would. The few times Darcy had visited New England, the two of them were thick as thieves. Sarah didn’t meet her gaze.

 _So, no prize for guessing just_ who _took him away_ , her words were light.

_I decided to run the gauntlet of the Labyrinth to bring him back. I got my ass handed to me in the early stages, started to use my brain around the middle and managed to gatecrash the castle in the end._

_Oh. Final Boss Fight time?_

Sarah snorted _Less of a fight and more of a chase around Escher stairs. Don’t ask about how that works, because even when I dreamed of it later on, I still have the same headache._

Surprisingly, it was Tyto’s voice that spoke up next, his voice oddly quiet.

 _It was a gauntlet laid to test mental willpower and determination more than anything else_. He raised his head and Darcy could read the lines of tiredness around his eyes, faintly etching his brows.

 _Tell them exactly how it ended_.

She would’ve thought that Sarah would be only too glad to do so, but her friend closed her mouth instead. Something held her back. Loki’s gaze was unwaveringly trained at the other brunette as well now. The air was pregnant with promises, the wind weaved its regret while wounding through the maple leaves.

 _Deliver the lines again, Precious_.

_I don’t think—_

_You haven’t forgotten it. I don’t believe you could forget it even if you’d live to a thousand years_. He sounded exhausted. For someone who’d cruelly pointed out his attraction with her, how she eviscerated him easily earlier, Sarah unexpectedly held back on this.

 _You don’t want to hear this_ , she said instead.

His laughter had a bleeding edge to it. _I don’t. But they need to, if they wish to understand_.

 _Through dangers untold, and hardships unnumbered._ Sarah began slowly, giving him the opportunity to stop her. The Alvar didn’t take it. _I have fought my way here to the castle beyond the goblin city, to take back the child that you have stolen. My will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom as great—_

Sarah cut herself off.

 _There_.

He shook his head, his left hand over his chest. He was strangely determined.

 _No, it was not finished yet_.

 _No._ Sarah insisted. Tyto remained unmoved.

_Go on, Champion._

The silence extended for several seconds as they continued to stare each other down. Sarah relented.

 _You have no power over me_.

And Tyto released a ragged breath, torn somewhere between relief and pain. Yet now, he was without the tension he held himself in before. That was when Darcy noticed the bright red liquid trickling down his hand, brighter than what she thought blood would be.

‘-

Lady Peregrine’s—no, Lady _Champion’s_ —words hung with the weight of prophecy in the air and Loki found the flash of clarity he needed. He wove the separate details she or the King of the Goblins had let loose into a single tapestry, and the picture came to life in his mind.

 _My will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom as great_ , he stated. His gaze met his friend’s. _That was where all the problem began, wasn’t it?_

Tyto only grinned.

 _I know you’d get it_.

 _Maybe you should lie down somewhere._ Darcy voiced her concern. Her friend could not take her eyes off the darkening spot in front of his coat either.

 _It’s to be expected when one chooses to dive deeper into dreams. It is easier to manifest ideas and affect the world, but at the same time the lines between the physical and the mental blurs even further_ , the Alvar commented. He did not take his hand from his chest either. _Go on, Coroné. I’m sure you can explain it far better than I can. At the very least you wouldn’t start another argument_.

 _It takes two to argue_ , the other brunette countered. From the way she bristled, she clearly took offence at his words.

 _Oh, I know, Precious. Believe me, I know. If I say anything I’d just make everything worse. Isn’t that what you’re thinking right now?_ His tone was wry as he said it. Perhaps it was his odd acceptance instead of another biting comment, whatever it was, the lady didn’t snap.

 _Not really. That wasn’t what I was thinking_.

She exchanged a long look with him in its place. Too many emotions crossed her face in a moment that Loki was sure he wouldn’t be able to unpack everything he’d seen. What had surprised him was the flash of concern—he didn’t think she actually cared. His friend was even less readable but neither did he break away.

_So! What was it that you were saying again, Lope?_

Fortunately for him, Darcy relentlessly stalked the issue like a feral cat after a rat. Her expression was as warm and full of life as always, her voice filled with determined good spirit and Loki held on to her glowing image in his mind with surprising gratefulness. If she wasn’t around, he would probably be sucked into the black hole that was the _Wichtkönig’s_ issues with the Champion.

 _My will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom as great_ , he restated it. _If it had been any other claims she challenged him with and subsequently won from him, we might not be in this mess_.

 _Are you blaming_ me _for being kidnapped? Then it’s also obvious that I didn’t take his kingdom!_ Lady Peregrine said.

 _And I’m not even half way done yet, my Lady, so hold your horses_. Loki didn’t bother hiding his eyeroll or change his tone from being sarcastic. Darcy cut in.

 _Alright! Lope, don’t annoy the scary lady more than necessary. Spike, I know that he could be an ass. Fight him later if you want. We need explanations for_ now _than anything else._

Lady Peregrine subsided. Loki was too busy thinking that he hadn’t stopped to wonder who this ‘Spike’ was. He spoke up again after a few more moments.

 _It’s…how should I put it? The degree of precision you put forth in your claim is a tight constraint on magic’s flexibility in fulfilling it_.

 _You might need to ground the explanations more, Professor. You’re losing the audience_ , Tyto drawled with amusement.

Darcy had a wide-eyed expression on her face and a smile. _Yep! That just went straight over my head._

Loki sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

 _The Midgardian perspective…very well. It_ is _rather difficult to talk about magic with non-magicians. Let’s see. Ah, yes, I think I have updated many terms of theoretical thaumaturgy in Allspeak when I’ve read up on set theory._ He glanced in Tyto’s direction for a moment. _Midgardians may scarcely have any magic, but it must be said that they’ve constructed the most elegant forms of mathematics. Perhaps they exert themselves completely in that direction since they cannot begin applying what they know as mages_.

Darcy whimpered at the thought of calculations. Loki held back the urge to comfort her and rushed on with his explanation instead.

_Truly, set theory is not complicated. After all, it is the foundation of everything else in mathematics. A set is simply a group of objects._

_Coroné_ , the Alvar cautioned him. _That was still too abstract_.

 _Still not getting the simple, Lope_ , Darcy said. Loki sighed again and ran a hand through his hair.

 _It’s…oh, bother. How about this? Think of whole numbers laid out in their proper order along a line_ , he began, watching her carefully.

_The number line, right? Okey-dokey._

_Suppose we are working only with numbers that are not negative. So, we start with zero._

_O…kay? So it’s like, what, zero, one, two, three, four all the way to infinity?_ She asked. He nodded.

_Yes. The set of numbers that are less than one only has one member. What is it?_

_Zero._ Darcy answered. _That’s obvious, right?_

He didn’t answer her but asked back instead. _What about the set of numbers less than three? How many members would it have?_

 _Three, of course’._ She even held her fingers up to demonstrate. _It’s zero, one and two, right?_

He couldn’t help his smile, feeling as if he could breathe easier. He had never thought of her as simple and something always knotted in his chest when she did. _Exactly. See how straightforward this is?_

 _I’m still not getting how this ties to Tyto’s mess, though_ , Darcy said, and he was reminded again of Tyto’s earlier chiding. Loki made up his mind and turned to Lady Peregrine.

_Do you have some matryoshka somewhere?_

_What?_

_I suppose you can call them nesting dolls. In which the dolls are contained within each other._

_Oh! No. Why would I even have a set of Russian dolls in a Chinese pavilion?_

Loki waved it away. _It was the first thing that came to mind. It does not have to be a doll. I could use any object that nests, really. A series of hairpins that increases in size would also work, for example_.

Peregrine clapped and called the maids with dead eyes back. Loki had unconsciously leaned back when they arrived, never mind that they weren’t nowhere near him—there was just something so fake about their unlife that it made him uncomfortable. He let her deal with the staff and explain what exactly it was that they were looking for. The maids returned with a series of fine china bowls, each smaller one set inside the one before it. Tyto was watching him through half-lidded eyes.

 _Perfect. Thank you_.

Loki laid the bowls out in order of size on the table.

 _So, let’s continue our little game._ He picked a random bowl on the smallish end. _If I ask for a group of bowls smaller than this one, what will you choose, Ikhne?_

Darcy’s raised eyebrow was clearly saying ‘duh’ to him, but she humoured him still and chose the two bowls smaller than it. She held them in her hands.

_Good. Now if I were asking for a set of bowls larger than this one, what would the set look like?_

Darcy returned the smallest bowls back to the lines and picked out all the larger ones, all the way to the largest. She grouped them right in front of her on the table. _You’d want this set, right?_

 _Very good_.

This was it. Even Tyto had sat straighter now and was watching him carefully, there was the weight of centuries in his gaze. It was slightly humbling to know that his friend still had some trust in him even after all his antics. Peregrine’s shoulders, on the other hand, had tensed up even if she might not know why yet. Her subconscious picked up the room’s atmosphere faster than her conscious mind. Loki took another breath, carefully measuring his words as he casually raised the bowl he was holding in his hand.

He held it with the same deliberate gravity that Hamlet held Yorick’s skull.

 _Now,_ _hjartað mín, what if I ask you for a set of bowls that is as large as the one I’m holding?_

‘-

Darcy made a quick look at the other bowls before shaking her head.

 _I can’t. I can’t make the set you’re asking for_ , she replied, exasperated.

_Really? Why is that?_

Loki was being a stubborn ass. She would’ve been more annoyed at him if she didn’t know that he was trying to make a point here and wanted to teach her something.

_You’re holding on the only bowl of that size!_

Darcy gasped. As soon as the words came out of her mouth, the realisation bludgeoned her head at the same time.

Loki’s voice was almost crooning when he spoke again, like a bard declaiming a skald in a long hall.

 _My will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom as great_.

Suddenly it wasn’t the table that Darcy was looking down on, but the land laid out below her as she flew over them with a bird’s eye view. It was not bowls of different sizes scattered there that she saw, but motte-and-baileys and settlements and _castles_. She saw them as kingdoms.

 _One has to wonder_ , Loki’s voice was a study of casualness, _just how many kingdoms were_ exactly _as great as the Goblin Kingdom? No more and no less great_?

Darcy turned to Sarah whose skin had gone pale.

 _Your challenge claimed his kingdom as your own_.

‘-

 _No, that can’t be right. If his kingdom is mine, it would mean that I’ve taken over it, right? Then wouldn’t it mean that he has no kingdom?_ Sarah asked.

 _No, because if that were true, then Tyto would have_ no kingdom _. If you had a kingdom and he had not, then his kingdom is not as great as your own, is it? Your initial claim would then be broken that way, and thus it cannot be the solution at all._ Coroné did not soften his reply as he shook his head. _The only answer to that were if you were to rule the same kingdom. There is only one number equal to seven—seven. The same way there is only one number equal to two and one number equal to three_.

He said this while picking up different bowls on the table to illustrate his point.

There was only one bowl that fits when you ask for equality.

_But I never wanted it—_

_If we always have what we want, I won’t be the King of the Goblins either,_ Jareth replied sarcastically. _Even if I’m used to it now, it hasn’t always been the case_.

It stunned her because, well, that has always been what he was for all she knew, so much that she couldn’t imagine him as anything else. He was the King of the Goblins, wasn’t he? She’d never wondered how he came to the title in the first place—she’d just thought that he inherited it from his father.

It was Darcy who spoke up next. _So, the kidnapping is…_

 _She swore a blue streak, saying that she’d_ never _go back to the Labyrinth again and she listens not to anything I say about the kingdom if I try to get her to come._ The elven king answered with an almost bored tone. _I tire of picking up her slack_. _She’ll have to start ruling as well. It is not as if she couldn’t go back and forth to earth with her powers as queen regnant, even if she lacks enough know-how for it yet._

Sarah was still snappish. _Still, if this comes down to getting married—_

Unexpectedly, he exploded.

 _Oh, go and freeze your backside off in Niflheim! I never even mentioned_ marriage _in my requests for your visit, did I? It’s only a matter of being co-regnant since apparently, I have pissed off the Norns enough to be cursed to share powers and duties of my office with someone who couldn’t care less. But I’ve had it. You can dislike me and hate me as much as you wish, but you will_ not _abandon my kingdom just because you don’t think the responsibility is bloody fair. Go and bring your lover to your quarters, if you want. For all I know you’ll bring three!_

 _As you’ve made your point clear more than once, it’s not any business of mine, is it? Just spare me the parade of paramours_. The bitterness in his voice was darker than the dregs of absinthe that Sarah kept at the back of the bar.

With that parting shot, the King of the Goblins stood up and strode out of the room and into the courtyard.

‘-

 _So…that was what the kidnapping was about?_ Darcy tried to break the awkward atmosphere. Loki seemed to be still trying to process it just as much.

 _I knew it had something to do with his kingdom. That was why I wasn’t too concerned carrying it out. He might hold grudges longer than most, but he does have a solid sense of responsibility somewhere inside his twisted head. I had no idea it was that…complicated_.

 _Does this mean that we can get out_ now?

Darcy gave Sarah an impatient look. Of course, she added a big chunk of I-think-you’re-being-an-idiot into it as well, because even _she_ knew that her friend had been vicious with her words.

Sarah shook her head.

 _I’m sorry, but not yet. If I disband the barriers now, it won’t be easy to corner him again_. She stood up and walked towards the gardens as well. Darcy threw her hands in the air in annoyance.

_Well that’s just great! Stuck being the third wheel—_

_—and fourth_ , Loki chimed in.

— _in a lover’s spat in a dungeon dimension is_ exactly _what I wanted for a weekend getaway! Not!_

 _This isn’t a separate dimension, we’re still in the In-Between_. Loki corrected. _Albeit within a local pocket somehow._

Darcy shrugged. Trust the magic nerd to notice that, of all things. It wasn’t as if she even cared about the ward’s technicalities. _You know what I mean, Magic Man_.

 _They seem to be closer to ex-lovers than lovers, though_ , Loki said, musing.

 _At this point, I don’t care_ , Darcy complained. _They have enough history and hate for either. You heard how personal the insults were getting, right?_

Loki winced. _I wish I didn’t._

 _You and me both_. Darcy said with a sigh.

After a quiet moment or three, Loki spoke up again. _So, what was this that I hear about you becoming the Ambassador to Asgard? And how in the Nine Realms did you befriend the Champion of the Labyrinth?_

Darcy was about to start sharing her tales when the realisation struck.

 _Wait, doesn’t this mean that she’s_ Queen _of the Goblins??_

Darcy took more of the _char siu sou_ , the sweet scent of the barbequed pork inside the little packets kicked her appetite into overdrive. Loki stopped his chopstick halfway from his mouth, the potsticker pausing in mid-air.

 _You are correct. I suppose this will be formalised now. Her claim on the Goblin Kingdom_ does _explain why your club can employ goblins so easily. I can see that they would gladly accede to their queen_.

 _Huh, nifty._ Darcy mused, only making the connection now. _What would that make her? A wicht something as well?_

There was the slightest cringe of Loki’s shoulders. _Wichtkönig, Ikhne. That’s his title_.

_So, she’s also the Wichtkönig, now?_

_Wichtkönigin, if we want to be precise_. Loki even helped put more interesting-looking dim sum on her plate. _She’d be the Queen of the Goblins, not the King of the Goblins_.

Darcy just nodded at his correction. It wasn’t as if her German was that good. Or whatever language it was that the title was in; it simply sounded like German to her ears.

_By the way, how did you know the king dude?_

_We’re both highly skilled magicians and we’re male seidr wielders at that. There aren’t that many people in the first circles, and as a result, everyone tends to know everyone else._

She shook her head, her lips in a small thinking pout that drew Loki’s eyes in, though she was unaware.

 _No, I don’t think it’s just that. I can see that you know each other pretty well_.

He did not immediately answer her question and she did not say anything else. After she’d tasted some bite-sized purses filled with shiitake goodness that he’d recommended, Loki spoke up.

 _You would call us…friends, I suppose_. He tasted the words as if they were a foreign delicacy on his tongue.

Darcy grinned. _There it is. Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?_

 _We merely have far more mutual interests than most other magicians and thus interacted more often_ , he corrected.

She ignored his glare. Loki passed more than one tasty morsel in her way if she had even glanced slightly at them, recommending which sauce would fit with which dish.

_Lope, not that I don’t like the food—love it, in fact. It’s just that if you keep piling on food for me, add it to all these feasts they hold in Asgard, and I’ll get fat before you know it._

The Asgardian gave her a moment’s glance of disbelief before he returned to pointing out more interesting stuff (and adding them to her plate). There were some that were shaped like crescent moons, speckled in orange, green and yellow with the colour of their fillings as well as those that were blushing pink because of the delicate prawns perfectly cooked inside them. The fact that he could actually describe their ingredients and cooking methods were mouth-watering. She _really_ wouldn’t turn the food down. The grace and speed that he wielded the chopsticks were also at professional chef levels.

 _More weight would not change your attractiveness at all, Ikhne. I have not the slightest idea why you’re concerned._ His reply was blasé.

She gaped. It was kind of sweet of him, but she still found it a bit hard to believe—

_And don’t think that I’d forget it just because you’ve changed the subject. How did you become the Ambassador to Asgard?_

_Ah, me joining the diplomatic shindig._ She mused out loud.

 _Yes, that_.

_Weeell, let’s see… I was just about to step through Bifrost Lite when the amazing Pepper Potts handed me my papers and gave me the position. Ta da! Instant ambassador, just add water!_

He rolled his eyes. _As you say. Now, what of the real story?_

Well, there was the far more impressive planning and argument that Pepper had put forth in the document packet that Darcy was given—the brunette had no idea that Pepper had been coordinating the preparations to get someone sent in this post for a while. The only issue was that no one had quite decided about who should go—at least until Darcy was forced into a difficult position and the redhead just decided to kill two birds with one stone. She supposed she’d go with Pepper and the State Department’s strategic arguments for now because, hey, she also wanted to look impressive in front of him.

It was a _completely reasonable_ emotion to feel, especially when you’ve just suddenly found out that your friend is actually someone who challenged an elven king for her brother and won herself a kingdom. Like she didn’t have enough of a complex already with her best poli-sci pal being an actual _prince_.

Now, she was already sifting through her mind about the things she could tell him and the things she couldn’t. Previously, she was Darcy the Assistant, whose responsibility extended to one whole lab. She could afford to not give a damn. Now, she was a freaking _Ambassador_. The last thing she wanted was to give Loki any sort of knowledge that might assist the frost giant invasion. She’d completely refrained from mentioning Avaldi, for one—as she had no idea whether the frost giants and fire giants are going to come to blows any time soon and she’d rather give the fire giants the element of surprise. She contented herself to sing Bragi’s praises instead and how it was nice to see Sif again. Familiar faces made her feel less homesick, and she admitted that easily to Loki.

Yet she found herself skipping over the attempted assassination(s) before she realised it.

When she did notice, she couldn’t even find a reason to tell him. What good would it make? It wasn’t as if Loki was in Asgard—there was nothing he could do, anyway. It would only make him worry pointlessly. She did mention encountering a healer on one of her strolls in the greenhouses and she managed to work Stephen/Osvald into her story. Loki helpfully told her that his favour would have been enough to allow the snakes to identify her as associated with him, rendering her safe among them.

That was also nifty. She cheerfully thanked him, though for a moment all words were forgotten as Loki gave her a rare sincere smile that seemed to be there only because he forgot to rein it in. Wonder lit his expression, as if he was trying to memorise every single detail he could see. His eyes were wide and desperately drinking her in. Loki casually pushed some of the hair falling in front of her face behind her ear, and her breath caught in her throat

The tips of his fingers had grazed her cheeks delicately; too afraid to touch her but too desperate not to try, trailing sparks over her skin. She shivered. They met each other’s gaze for a few moments too long, his green eyes lit a fire inside her. Darcy saw something in his expression. Was that—

He cleared his throat and started serving dessert. Their conversation wound to Asgardian cuisines she’d tried out already and they kept a careful distance in their seats.

Inwardly, though, she gave herself a bitter smile. She knew she was a coward. After that blow up between Tyto and Sarah, all she wanted was a calm evening spent talking with a friend or two—and that chance was shot to hell with the two of them already haring off somewhere else, wasn’t it? If she had to avoid some topics for a peaceful conversation between her and Loki to work for now, she didn’t mind.

Loki kept a calm and easy cadence with his words as he asked her about her routine in Asgard. Considering how he actually stayed away from asking about politics (and with their mutual interest, wasn’t _that_ a shocker?), she suspected that she wasn’t the only person who was doing their best at dodging uncomfortable topics.

‘-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, I’ve _always_ wanted to put the implications of Sarah’s words in terms of set theory. I guess that’s one thing I can cross off from my bucket list.
> 
> Also, what, Tyto and Sarah apparently has issues? *snerk* you don’t say? As you can see, it's not _just_ a kidnapping. Things are not always as they first appear.
> 
> On a different note, I’ve never thought that the _Two Queens_ scene was going to end up being an information clearinghouse scene as well. Now that I remember the scope of the whole mess (plot), and juggling about who knows what, I think I should’ve expected that.
> 
> Julius Lung is a tad difficult to cast, unlike his friend Zacharie Mornay. The best I can think of is probably 1990s Takeshi Kaneshiro (correct hairstyle and age), though with hair bleached to be blond. I think it’s pretty appropriate to choose a Hong Kong actor for a Cantonese guy, not to mention that they were both of mixed parentage.
> 
> On a random note, has anyone had any luck with figuring out what _Ikhneumon_ means yet?
> 
> ‘-
> 
> _ The Weird and Random Glossary: _
> 
> **_Boudicca_ :** (History) Latinised as Boadicea or Boudicea. A queen in Celtic Britain, united several tribes and led a rebellion against the Roman rule in Britain around AD 60-61 and did not succeed. 
> 
> **_Dame_ :** (1920s slang) a woman.
> 
>  ** _Demimonde_** **:** (French) half-world. In the last half of the 19 th century, it’s usually used to refer to ‘fallen’ women or other women who has lost their standing in society due to indiscreet behaviour. I’m using it for its more literal sense, though, the _half-world_ , which is a fine name to apply to the loose society of those who go bump in the night. I don't think I'm the first writer to see its convenient meaning in fantasy terms and use it for this purpose, though.
> 
>  ** _Lucid Dreaming_ :** (psychiatry, psychology) A dream in which the dreamer is aware that they are dreaming. This enables them to exert some degree of control on the dreams. The methods that Sarah used to achieve the ability to lucidly dream is real, though I suppose there’s more than one way to get the same results.
> 
> I wouldn’t recommend doing it every time you’re dreaming, though, since the brain waves of someone in REM sleep (actual dreaming) and someone in a lucid dream is different—that means you’re not exactly sleeping properly when you’re lucid dreaming.
> 
>  ** _Moll_ :** (1920s slang) a gangster’s girl.
> 
>  ** _Peregrine_ :** the peregrine falcon ( _Falco peregrinus_ ), a bird of prey that can be found nearly everywhere on earth, it has blue-grey back. I like the meaning of the name of its Latin source; _peregrinus_ , meaning foreigner or traveller. It fits Sarah very well.
> 
>  ** _Set Theory_ :** (mathematics) a mathematics branch that studies sets. We can informally define a set as a group of objects. Seriously, the humble set theory a lot more impressive than it looks—you can rewrite any other branch of mathematics in terms of set theory, for one. Hence why it’s also a pretty foundational branch (it’s one of the branches that can be used to define the _foundations of the mathematics_ that you want to use). What, you thought there was only _one_ type of self-contained mathematical world?
> 
>  ** _Sheba_ :** (1920s slang) A beautiful woman. From the risqué 1921 silent movie, _The Queen of Sheba_ that catapulted Betty Blythe into notorious stardom and early sex symbol.
> 
> ‘-


	46. XLVI. Sometimes the Way Forward is the Way Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Sarah’s search among the maples. Taking up the mantle of a ruler. Discussing the end of the world while eating Chinese food. It’s always teatime somewhere. Explosions handled with care. A small event of note in Sarah’s past._
> 
> _*References, references everywhere._

### XLVI. Sometimes the Way Forward is the Way Back*

Red and orange leaves drift down as the winds caressed the maples. The sun had almost set, but she could see the star-filled sky perfectly. It was also strangely bright in the courtyard; her eyes had no problem seeing every little detail. The ripe harvest moon hung low and heavy in the sky.

An improbably perfect twilight. The sort of thing only possible in dreams, she supposed, like valentine evenings. It was too bad that she wasn’t relaxed enough to enjoy the view right now.

Sarah was _not_ looking forward on hunting through the whole estate to find the Goblin King’s royal ass. Julius had used his grandparent’s estate when she asked for a room-within-a-ward, because it needed to be a place he knew like the back of his hand enough to reconstruct. It had to be a place whose every weaknesses and holes he knew, mainly so he could close them one-by-one to render the ward airtight. He couldn’t recreate the _Two Queens_ —not on her deadline. He didn’t know the place quite that well yet.

When he’d said that his grandparent’s place wasn’t going to be too big since it was a city dwelling instead of some countryside mansion, she’d just nodded.

Now, she was getting the feeling that maybe ‘small’ was a relative term.

Taking a deep breath to enjoy the autumn air, she sighed. Even the courtyard itself was the size of a small college quad. Time to make her rounds then.

Sarah was truthful to Coroné when he asked about the living beings in the place. There were only the four of them here. In the waking world, she was just Sarah. In her dreams as she walked within the Two Queens, she was mistress over her club in more ways than one. She could almost feel the excitement in the crowd over her skin, the high energy in the crowd when the band was playing slick beats. She could always unerringly point towards the direction of the dance floor, no matter wherever she was in the club—and she was pretty sure she’d never been that good at pathfinding before.

She didn’t know why, but she could feel _people_ here.

With only four of them here, in this copy of the Lung estate, Sarah was gambling on the chance that she could use that strange sense to find him. She closed her eyes and walked. The scent of fresh leaves and grass filled her senses, along with the rich earth after a rain. At first, there was only darkness, but after a while, she thought she could see faint gossamer threads…

There was a bright glow to her right and back that Sarah easily identified as Darcy. It might be the warmth in it, or the courage, but she felt as if she could identify her best friend anywhere. She knew she was right when she could feel the cooler presence next to her. That was probably Coroné—she’d left the two of them there as she walked out and she guessed that they didn’t move anywhere. Now, she only needed to find the third and last flicker in this place. She stretched her arms in front of her, slowly moving them side-to-side…

There! There was something to her right and slightly forwards.

It felt less like a warmth and more like a faint tug, along with the sound of wind far, far away. It gave her an idea. Maybe she should start envisioning her human connections as ropes and ribbons and strands. She would easily have one that bound her to Darcy, as they’d had each other’s backs for uncountable times now. The echo of a satiny shawl draped over her left arm. It was warm, and its other end seems to trail away to some unseen point behind her—Darcy, she presumed. She let out a relieved breath. This might just work. No matter how complicated her association with the Goblin King was, there was still a connection between them.

(There will always be a connection between them, all the way ‘till the end of the world.)

She felt the ghost of a silk ribbon around her right wrist, as delicate as a lover’s kiss over the veins.

Sarah ignored whatever impressions she was getting and gently pulled at it to get a general feel of its direction. It was slow going, what with her walking without her sight. She had no wish to rush and stumble over some bit of raised tile or fallen branch. It was only when she felt the ribbon tilting _up_ that she stopped. She opened her eyes, seeing only a flash of red in her hand before there was nothing.

In front of her was a maple tree with its rich blazing crown under a starlit sky.

She raised her head, circling it carefully. At one of the upper branches, she thought she could spy an owl. Right.

_So, um, Tyto. Your alias is Tyto in here, right?_

The owl didn’t shift or even seem to hear her.

 _Look, we need to talk. If I need to also rule over your kingdom, there’s a lot of things I need to ask_.

Still no reaction. Sarah sighed and opened her shoes. The tree had enough branches. She could do this—she used to do this when she was a kid, and she even climbed a tree to answer one of Tory’s dares in college. She looked down. Would it matter that she’d ruin her dream stockings or not? Muttering to herself, she took them off.

Just when she managed to drag herself up the lowest branch, the owl flew off (hopped off) and landed on the neighbouring tree.

_Oh, you bastard…_

Sarah cursed under her breath, leapt down without another thought and went to the next maple.

‘-

 _I can do this forever, you know?_ She said, conversationally.

Currently, she was trying to stand up on the branch, checking her footing. Yes, she was talking to a bird, and no, she didn’t care how cuckoo she looked right now. It wasn’t just because there was no one else here; she really could not care less even if they were just outside her old university cafeteria during lunch hour. She needed to talk to him, she _will_ talk to him, and she can ignore every other superfluous thing in the way.

 _You already knew that I’m the only one that can open or close the entire ward, and I’m not leaving until I have some answers_. She said, making good use of her stage training as she ensured her voice can be heard clearly up to the canopy. _You hop, I’ll move and then we’ll just start this whole dance all over again._

She pulled herself up another branch; she’d gone past the two lowest branches already this time, to her surprise. The bark was comfortably smooth under her palms. Maybe after moving and ditching her for five trees, he was getting bored of it too. It renewed her determination. It was actually rather nice to be up here, the sweet and woodsy scent of maple all around them.

 _Alright, I_ can’t _do it forever, mortal bodies and all_ , she admitted. _But I can certainly do it until I slip into some sort of coma due to lack of food. That’s the nice things about dreams, isn’t it? You’re not limited by what your body could do. No tiredness or anything._

This time, the barn owl was looking down. The bright red spot over its breast made her wince, but if the owl was going to ignore it all this time, she was too. It didn’t even seem to affect its flightworthiness or stamina so far. Even if the bird was still trailing blood.

She met its gaze squarely.

 _You said it yourself. We need to talk. I agree, so let’s talk_.

Was it even possible for owls to look nonplussed? She didn’t know if it was normal, but she was sure of what she saw. At that moment, her annoyance reached its peak.

_This mess wouldn’t have even happened if you didn’t kidnap me! What’s so hard about just telling me about the kingdom and the ruling shtick? I would’ve listened and visited the Labyrinth with you—_

Did that owl just scoff? And glare. It was glaring at her with its judgey yellow eyes. The expression was so familiar that she could even imagine his voice along with it; ‘are you bloody _serious_?’

She paused. He did try getting her to visit him, didn’t he? Tried talking about what being a King of the Goblins meant too. She never really listened to him, never believed that it wasn’t a ploy to get her back. Well, it _was_ a ploy to get her back, but he apparently had a good reason for it. She rubbed her forehead.

 _Alright, so I wasn’t listening. Sue me. You’re not exactly the soul of discretion either. You’ve dropped in often enough at my rehearsals in college that most of my friends think there’s_ something _between us and you scared more than one guy I wanted to date, or make me single longer. Don’t you think that creeps out a girl? Enough to make her want to run a thousand yards in the opposite direction?_

The bird still look nonplussed, an avian version of the expression of ‘duh’. Yet it wasn’t the too-intense look of, well, something deep and maybe profound that always made her uncomfortable. The owl’s gaze was more professional, as he was commenting on something he found _necessary_ to do. She leaned back on her current branch, resting her back on the trunk. She wasn’t quite sure about the strength of the rest of the branches higher up from this point. Her eyes couldn’t stop going back to the wound, at least until the owl seemed to be annoyed enough that he shifted to hide it.

_Connection, connection… Wait, you’re talking about that shitty prophecy you’re caught in, right?_

The barn owl had the gall to roll his eyes.

_Don’t you roll your eyes at me, Birdbrain. Again, you didn’t even tell me! It’s not as if the storybook I had mentioned anything about ruling the kingdom, only about facing the King of the Goblins and winning!_

She scoffed. _Also, you’ve never really befriended many of my friends. They would have helped you tell me the things I’ve been avoiding to hear from you, you know?_

The owl jumped to a lower branch to get closer to her, to her surprise. He cocked his head to one side. It was just as disbelieving as his human expression when he raised one eyebrow at her.

 _Alright, you’d have to skip all the magical details and make up something normal-ish that they can take. I don’t think it’s impossible to do, though. Thing is, the kidnapping is_ your _screw up, not mine._

_Overreaction, much?_

The owl was puffing himself up in aggravation, but she continued. _And I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions that fast, but you didn’t leave me enough room to move. I hate being a prisoner. I absolutely hate being helpless. You_ know _that and you did it anyway_. She replied. This time, there was no condemnation from her, just a simple statement as she gave him a thousand-yard stare.

The bird was huffy, but she could see that he _knew_ it was a mistake now. The ball of feathers was _sulking_. Sarah almost did something ridiculous like cooing or reaching out to hug and cuddle the sulk away. With blood still seeping from that open wound, it tugged at the urge to take care deep inside her. She was a sucker for strays. Sarah turned away—she’d thought over her little speech on the way here, but she didn’t think she could do it in one go if he was looking at her. Not even in owl form.

 _Look, I don’t think you’re a nice man, or elf, or_ whatever _it is that you are. I think one of my exes and three of my last boyfriends have a long list of problems they feel are related to you. It doesn’t matter that they have no proof they can show—you’re just that good, I know. And no, before you ask, it’s not a compliment. I also know that you screwed up one of my part-time jobs not long after I complained about the sleazy boss—no, it doesn’t really matter that there’s somehow,_ miraculously _a replacement job ready when I had to look for another one. I can handle it, and if I’d ever thought it was a problem, I’d have told you. That wasn’t the problem._ Her tone was sarcastic.

_The problem is, you’re an interfering ass, Ja—Tyto._

She waved away the series of protesting hoots she could hear. _It doesn’t matter much since I don’t think I’m a very nice woman either. You can be an ass and I’ll just deal with it with whatever means I think is necessary—remember that time Janice introduced you to her parents as her boyfriend during Thanksgiving? Why did you think I wanted spent my Thanksgiving with her family in the first place? They’re just so_ thrilled _to meet the guy Janice couldn’t stop talking about! Such a nice British guy! Lovely, lovely dense Janice_.

The owl was giving her a look of remembered betrayal. Sarah was savouring some _nice_ , _entertaining_ memories.

Back then, she’d only said that she was going to spend Thanksgiving with Janice’s family instead of going all the way home, what with her ankle’s hairline fracture. He was the one who dug his own grave by insisting he came with her. She wasn’t even surprised that he forgot he’d gone out with Janice before.

Sarah had come up with a thousand and one reason as to how he didn’t really know Janice very well, how he _surely_ didn’t want to spend a whole weekend with _boring_ humans when he could just go home, right? And that she wasn’t sure if he’s going to be able to pretend to be normal, anyway, and that was why she thought it was better off if he didn’t come along. All the social chit-chat was going to be torture. On the other hand, he actually made a promise that _it would not be any trouble at all_ to be on _his best behaviour_ to convince her—he had bound himself with his words before he knew it.

Thus, he ended as a guest of said _lovely_ Janice who could not recognise a Clue if it stabbed her in the middle of a party hosted by the Zodiac Killer. Janice who could not be dissuaded from the idea that he was in love with her. Janice who, during the holiday, successfully persuaded her family that he was the love of her life. And he could not be anything less than polite or nice unless he wanted to break his words. So, the Goblin King was stuck to playing house and pretending he was normal to the in-laws. All while letting Janice stick to him like a leech. _Pfffft_.

It was all according to plan.

To be more accurate, _she_ helped him dig his own grave. She knew he wouldn’t want to let her out of her sight when she was wounded, and she still hadn’t forgiven him for some of his previous shenanigans then. This was what she came up with.

Sarah couldn’t help but grace him with a sweet, sweet smile. It was one that had struck terror-laced adoration into the hearts of many—not that she knew about it. Honey of my soul, thy name is payback, Sarah mused.

_I’m sure it was perfectly normal that your brain was about to crawl out of your skull at the end of the week. Fun times—for me, not for you. Look, I mentioned all that just to give you perspective. I’ve kicked your ass back on almost all the problems that matter and I don’t actually have any grudges about them afterwards._

Sarah paused for a while, her fingers entwining as she kept her next thoughts to herself.

She gave no explanation about the way she hung out his not-so-secret focus on her in public like so much dirty laundry; less of a personal letter to cherish and more of a love letter one belittled and read in public. It had been tawdry and crude and Sarah did not pretend that she was proud of it. She made no mention of how she’d said out loud in front of their two friends of the things he did when he was at the lowest of lows as if it was commonplace of him, that his entire self can be defined by the bad decisions.

He wasn’t the only one with a long list of rebound girls who were suspiciously similar to a certain someone else—she wouldn’t even have known if she hadn’t started digging for news and asking the occasional goblins that drop in at her place about Goblin Kingdom gossip. She merely hid her string of exes better and had gotten it out of her system in high school. It was more-or-less along the time of her first set of temporary breaks from complete sanity too.

Sarah sighed.

_Look, it…well, it balances out, in a way, don’t you think?_

_A nice man wouldn’t survive a day in the Goblin Kingdom. On that note, I don’t think a nice woman would either._ Nor would they survive whatever high court the fae realm pays their respects to, she mused, if the sharpness of his wit and tongue was any indication of just how cutthroat it was.

She took a deep breath. _What’s more important is that none of the goblins in the Two Queens have a bad thing to say about you. Oh, sure, they complain, but they_ like _complaining. They even complain when they think you’re down and you’re not giving them enough kicks because of that. It’s not hard to notice that they’re always proud that the kingdom has plenty of food to go around, come harsh winter or failed harvest. They speak of festivals and they know that you have their back when other kingdoms who think them as nuisances and pests try to eradicate them. That tells me a lot about what sort of ruler you are._

Sarah cleared her throat, as it had begun to feel dry.

_What I’m trying to say is, you’re a good king. And that’s all that matters in this case, isn’t it?_

Her voice was steady when she gave him her decision. She was proud because she’d worked hard at it.

_I’ll be your Queen Regnant. Just help me out with the scheduling, okay?_

Sarah climbed down from the branch without waiting for the reply. Then, she jumped down from the lowest branch to walk away, shoes carried in her left hand. It was the perfect exit, really, because she’d spoken about everything that needed to be spoken of and held her head high.

If she didn’t leave immediately, she might start talking about other superfluous things—like unnecessary apologies.

She wouldn’t have noticed this since she wasn’t looking at him at all, but the wound over his breast had stopped bleeding.

‘-

Darcy threw her hands in the air in annoyance.

_Well that’s just great! Stuck being the third wheel—_

_—and fourth_ , Loki chimed in.

— _in a lover’s spat in a dungeon dimension is_ exactly _what I wanted for a weekend getaway! Not!_

 _This isn’t a separate dimension, we’re still in the In-Between_. Loki corrected. _Albeit within a local pocket somehow._

She shrugged. Trust the magic nerd to notice that, of all things—

The double doors that Sarah had threw close behind her swung open again as Sarah stepped in. Not far behind her was the pale thistledown hair of Tyto, Rex. Darcy blinked, feeling an intense sense of déjà vu. Her eyes met Loki’s.

 _We’ve had this conversation before_ , she said. It wasn’t a question.

 _Yes_ , Loki confirmed without any doubt. It was his friend who received his full attention, though.

_Tyto, did you just…turn the wheel back?_

Sarah turned back, surprise on her face. It seemed that she had no idea that the fae king had been walking behind her. The bright red spot in front of his chest remained, but at least it wasn’t dripping any longer. Tyto met Loki’s gaze easily, a crystal ball casually held in his right hand.

 _Yes, I did. Shifting back the temporal weave is simple enough in a closed dimension, and child’s play when that dimension is within a dream_. He replied, taking his original seat. _I don’t know how long it would take for us to talk. It would save effort this way if you’ve retained the memories of your talk without having to spend time at it_.

Darcy didn’t hide her blatant staring of the blond.

 _You could manipulate time. I can’t believe you can do that—that’s such a powerful reality hack_.

Tyto shook his head and waved it away as if it was nothing. _No, I can do that now just because this is a small pocket dimension, cut away from everything else. It is not indefinite either._

 _Yes, he can manipulate time_ , Sarah answered with a shrug. _Not always, not every time, but it’s darn convenient sometimes to schedule emergency studying time—and no, Slugger, I didn’t use it on all-nighters before the test. That’s just_ wrong _and irresponsible_. She firmly replied.

Darcy still couldn’t help saying something to the tune of ‘you dirty cheater you’ at Sarah, but the tone was closer to envy than anything.

The Alvar rolled his eyes.

 _Once again, I cannot manipulate time. It’s simply that time is highly subjective in dreams. If you keep in mind that I’ve earned the title of Dreamweaver for a reason, it becomes child play_.

 _If you found it necessary to rewind the flow, I suppose you still have something to talk about?_ Loki had started to unpack the steamers once more and display all the delicious dim sum that are now completely uneaten again. Darcy was liking this time-reversal thing; it was better than diet, that’s for sure. All the eating you can do and none of the calories! Imagine that. All the beautiful dishes couldn’t raise Tyto’s spirits, his mouth set in a grim line.

 _Yes. There’s still Fimbulwinter_.

‘-

Fimbulwinter.

That word brought out differing reactions in the people around him. Loki was waiting, unnaturally still, Darcy felt herself hold her breath without a thought while only Sarah seemed at ease. It made her wonder that maybe her friend had no idea how terrible that word really was.

_Why?_

The word escaped from her lips before she knew it, everyone’s eyes on her. 

 _Why? Because when you travel the Yggdrasil often enough, you will hear the echoes from distant parts of the Tree unravelling_. Tyto answered. _As someone whose duties mean travelling the branches often, it is impossible not to notice when things change. There’s a good reason that the Goblin King is one of the few tasked to watch over it._

This time, it was Sarah who warily cast her glances around her solemn companions. Not that Darcy blamed her for wondering why the room’s mood had just dipped close to a funeral dinner.

 _It’s the cold death of the universe, Spike_ , Darcy clarified.

 _It is one thing to take a few realms and invade another, mayhaps to be the king of all you conquer. It is still a far cry from wishing for the universe to cease altogether_ , Loki added, once he realised that Darcy was helping her friend adjust to the reality of the Nine Realms.

_O…kay?_

_It’s started_. Tyto said to Sarah. _That was why I have to confront you about being queen now. Otherwise, there’s just not enough time—_

 _Not enough time for what?_ She asked.

 _Prepare to push back the end of the world, I suppose_ , Darcy answered without thinking. She knew just how jaded she looked when Sarah looked concerned. _If even the High Kings of the Nine Realms are going to check it out, it’s a Thing alright_.

To her surprise, her statement was a real head turner. Tyto sat upright, the weight and solemnity of his office on his shoulders and his light hair almost a halo around his head. Loki seemed so severe that she could easily imagine all those years where he was the more responsible of the Asgardian princes. It was the heavy atmosphere that removed any thought of not telling what she knew from the Allthing.

 _What do the High Kings know?_ The Alvar asked.

 _You guys know that the Allthing is currently held in Asgard, right?_ Darcy said.

 _Tyto has informed me of it recently_ , Loki replied. Said elven king only nodded.

 _To be honest, they’re still not sure what it is that Veth the Hawk is seeing_ —she heard sharp intakes of breath from the guys as well as a shared look— _so, they decided to investigate further just to make sure. Personally, I think they’re playing it too safe. Then again, I’m completely biased since it’s my own damned home planet that’s getting crunched first. I’m also lucky enough to hear him tell about the wonkiness around earth in his own words—_

 _You_ do _know who Vethrfölnir is, don’t you?_ It was Loki who asked this time, eyes still slightly wide with disbelief.

Darcy snorted. _I get it. He’s the Watcher of the Skies, the Hawk that Flies Through the Heavens, Bird Who’s Really, Really Old, and other long titles I don’t even remember. Spirit-bound to one of the First Spirits of the universe, which meant he could draw on knowledge from thousands of years—am I getting close?_

She snorted at the Loki’s amazement, or Tyto’s surprised expression.

 _Dude, come_ on _, who had been attending the Allthing all this time? Attending the gut-bursting feasts in the Golden Hall? Who had been playing the effin’ Game of Thrones in Space with no briefing, not even a full deck of cards to work with? Not you magicians, that’s for sure_. It wasn’t difficult to see that Sarah had been trying to absorb everything she was hearing and failing.

 _Alright, ease off. You guys know this thing forwards and back, no one need to tell you about how serious it could be. Now that I told you that Veth saw some shitty stuff above the earth, maybe you can talk strategy, or something. I can spill the rest of the details later. As for me, I’ll just take a walk with my best friend here and update her on all the crazy Nine Realm shenanigans._ Darcy stood up.

_I don’t think you’ve told her much about the Nine Realms, right?_

The look she gave Tyto was piercing. His shrug still came easily to him. _There had been no reason to. My kingdom is not exactly…closely placed to others for it to matter._

_Right. So, Spike? What do you say to a short walk and some explanation on this crap?_

She didn’t imagine the look of relief in Sarah’s face. _Thanks. I’ll take you up on that._

_Sure. Come on._

‘-

Darcy gave Sarah the basic rundown of the Nine Realms during their walks. That was when Sarah realised just then that being an ambassador suited her chipper friend very well.

It wasn’t something that Sarah thought much before and neither would she even imagine it. Darcy was always a quick snap away from a snazzy comeback, and the old fire was still there. Yet before, Sarah would’ve thought that her irreverence and issues with simply following direct orders would’ve gotten her to take jobs that had some flexibility or independence to them. Darcy didn’t have the sort of ambition and drive that would usually get someone a position this high.

Oddly enough, the irreverence hadn’t gone anywhere either. Instead, stubbornness gained an unyielding focus. Sarah did not fail to notice that it was Darcy who had been the one to ride herd on everyone else when they were all too eager to argue. She was the one who hammered out the basics of everyone’s positions, where they were at, and what they were each trying to do to get them to move forward. It was impressive to see Darcy wielding her sharp mind to slice through the clutter. Sarah knew very well what was inside her pretty head; she just had no idea how effective it could be when not held back with self-doubt. It was something that she knew had been an issue back in college.

Maybe Darcy simply never had anything to be ambitious about before.

 _So, I suppose that’s the tall, dark and broody guy right there?_ Sarah purposefully kept her tone light. _I thought he was only something like a Prime Minister’s son, y’know? Not an out-and-out magical prince from the land beyond the rainbow bridge._

Darcy groaned and dropped her face into her hands.

 _You make it sound like I’m dating a_ unicorn _!_

 _That’s actually a great idea. When people ask you ‘what do you see in him’, you can just go ‘oh, he reminds me_ so much _of Rainbow Dash’._ Sarah replied glibly. She still remembered well what My Little Pony plushie that Darcy had.

 _You’re incorrigible_. Darcy murmured.

She grinned. _Truly, he’s pretty enough to be one—_

 _Which completely doesn’t matter when he’s been a pain in my ass for a while. I haven’t even finished grilling him on more Jötunheim stuff today_.

Sarah snorted. _Like that’s so surprising. It’s not as if all the guys you’ve liked had been nice, agreeable and pushovers. You’d get bored too soon whenever that’s the case_.

She ignored Darcy’s glare.

 _And what about that friend of yours that calls often? “Someone I knew in high school” my ass!_ Darcy rallied back.

 _I_ did _know him in high school!_ Sarah defended. Not that she actually met her friend’s eyes as she said this.

 _I thought he might be someone from your high school debate club!_ Not _an honest-to-god elven king!_ Darcy complained.

That brought her to a pause, perplexed.

_Why debate club?_

_Because whenever he drops in, you don’t even say hello. You just segue right into whatever topic you’re not satisfied harassing the TA about, like say, all those stuff in international relations, and you force him defend a random position. Or force him to defend_ your _position while you attack. People never could tell whether you’re seriously arguing or just debating—that’s why everyone else usually just get the hell out of dodge when you both start._ Darcy said. _Yeah, so he doesn’t actually drop in personally that often…but when he does, it leaves an impression, you know?_

_I don’t do that!_

Darcy sniggered, seemingly content to just wait while Sarah run through her memories. _I…oh hell, I do_.

_Yeah. Everyone just accepted that he’s probably the chairman of your high school debate club, probably your ex if not outright your long-distance on-again, off-again boyfriend—_

_That’d be too easy for him_. Sarah murmured. That got her an eyeroll from her friend.

 _Like anyone else would know any better. I mean, almost everyone had accidentally overheard you skypeing him in your room,_ also _arguing_ —

— _we were having civilised conversations,_ Sarah insisted. _Pretty sure I passed British parliamentary rules of conduct and all that!_

 _And the MPs don’t_ still _manage insult each other with nice-sounding words_ , Darcy countered.

They walked over to the bench in front of the jasmine bushes, mostly because the fragrance had been drawing Sarah in unconsciously for a while. The sound of crickets fill the air and the occasional pine tree added a refreshing hint to the scents.

 _I wasn’t skypeing_. Sarah said out of nowhere with a sigh.

Darcy was confused for a moment. _What?_

 _I wasn’t skypeing with him. It was good old-fashioned teleportation in and out. Pretty convenient for short chats. Certainly saves on the phone bills_ , Sarah said dryly.

Their silence was an old blanket shared between two friends now. It gave comfort and understanding deeper than mere words.

 _So,_ Darcy started as they sat down.

 _So,_ Sarah let out a long sigh. _It seems that neither of us had a normal life to begin with._

There was a snort of laughter from Darcy. _Even without all this_ —she vaguely waved her hands around— _I don’t think you’d ever be_ normal _._

Sarah rolled her eyes. _Pot, meet kettle_.

_Hey, I was plenty normal, I’ll have you know! I was making great iPod playlists back in the day and content with my part-time job in a coffee chain. How much more normal could you get?_

_You accepted an internship with a_ physicist _and you didn’t back down even after the Puente Antiguo Events. You stayed, danger and all. Do you want me to start asking around our old classmates and see how many would do what you did afterwards?_

Darcy groaned even as she flopped herself back in a completely undignified way. Her head was tilted back, watching who-knows-what skyward. A smile crept up Sarah’s face before she even knew it.

 _I hate it when you’re all reasonable_ , Darcy complained.

 _Savour it while it lasts,_ Sarah replied, wry _. I’m sure reason would take a break sometime soon_.

She caught a maple leaf that had been gently swirling down and turned it in her hands.

_So. Fimbulwinter. What’s this about the Nine Realms and the end of the world?_

Darcy didn’t bother to hide her sigh. _Alright, let’s start at the beginning. Since now you’re technically a sovereign ruler from the Nine Realms, I’m sure that’s enough excuse for you to get me out of that damn NDA I got hit with. Not exactly one of the humans clueless about the Nine Realms anymore, right? If anyone complains_ now _, I can tell them to take it up with the Wichtkönigin._

 _Good, leave them to me_. Sarah commented, out of lack of anything else to say.

 _Yeah. That’s one of the perks of your job, I guess. Pretty sure SHIELD wouldn’t dare to mess with you_.

She took a long intake of breath, trying to decide where to begin.

_This all goes back to the shit that went down at Puente Antiguo. As you know, I took up that internship offer with Jane Foster…_

‘-

Some things in life are just the logical conclusion to other events. Loki knew this.

It’s nothing profound like some sort of unavoidable fate. It’s something simpler, the result of actions and reactions, a cascade of incidents that amplify the effects in one direction. Forget to eat for two days and you’ll feel weak on the third (Loki experienced that more than necessary when he was younger, lost in one new book or experiment). Fail to secure the results of a boar hunting adequately and an enterprising wolf would have ripped a shank or two out of the carcass before you know it. Whip cream for too long and one might accidentally have butter instead—he knew this one by accident. Young Loki had followed his mother to more places than he remembered, including the kitchen.

Nowhere on that list had ‘do a favour for a friend’ end up with ‘one-step away from being challenged to a duel’.

Considering the way his luck was going lately, it was probably a mortal duel too. The lady champion had marched back into the sitting room like an oncoming storm cloud. Darcy was rushing behind her, trying to keep up. She laid two swords on the table without further ado before she sat down again. Her eyes had been staring accusingly at Loki from the moment she stepped through the doors.

 _So. Slugger made a good point that an unprovoked attack during a parley is a gesture of bad faith_. Peregrine spoke conversationally. _It’s a good thing that she reminded me, because I almost forgot that and charge right in. The magical backlash probably wouldn’t be good for me—_

Tyto snorted. _I would’ve stopped you. I wouldn’t have let you harm yourself—_

 _—but I’m_ this close _to not caring. It didn’t really hit me until now that_ someone _was involved in an ongoing invasion of earth._

It was not difficult to see that she was doing her best to hold herself together and only managing it by the skin of her teeth. Darcy had returned to her seat, her attention on her friend.

_You’re nuts. Look, just how good at you at swordfight? Whatever stage practice you get, it’s gotta lose out to Lope’s, to Coroné’s centuries of experience!_

_You just told me that he’s invading_ earth _!_

Darcy rubbed her eyes. _I can’t believe I’m using his damned arguments, but he’s right—he’s not exactly the leader of the invasion forces. It’s not going to stop_ anything _._

Loki shook his head. _Ikhne is right. You wouldn’t even have a fighting chance_.

She did not seem fazed at all, only amused. _And you think it would stop me?_

 _I knew it. Positively suicidal_ , Loki muttered. If he harmed her, Tyto was going to do his damnedest to kill him. There was no question about that.

 _If it ever came that far, then I’d be the one fighting you in her name_ , a smooth drawl interrupted them. Loki wasn’t the only one surprised at his words and one look at the elven king stilled his questions. There was no doubt on his face—Tyto was completely serious. Loki wasn’t looking forward to facing the other sorcerer; even if they were magicians first, being kings and princes meant that it was impossible for either of them not to have learned the sword.

Considering that Tyto wasn’t an idiot to ignore his own advantage, he might not even restrict the duel to swords and include magic. Add to that the fact that they were in a dream and the odds get _worse…_

 _You don’t have to do that._ Peregrine said. _I_ wanted _to—_

 _Are you going to take back your words, Precious?_ The Alvar asked back, his tone was challenging. The unexpected question threw her out of loop.

_Which one are you talking about?_

_That you’d be the Queen Regnant_.

 _Of course I’m serious!_ She was confused _and_ annoyed now.

 _Then you’d let me do this for you,_ if _the duel ever takes place._ He stated evenly. _If you will be my Queen Regnant, then I’m also your King. Now, if you do challenge him, it would be under the banners of the Goblin Kingdom. If we really have to attempt killing a member of Asgard’s ruling family, isn’t it better to be successful at it than not?_

The fae with thistledown hair shrugged.

_If someone has to throw the gauntlet to him, it would have to be me, then._

When Tyto laid down the facts under the harsh light of day, hush fell over the room. As comforting as it was to see Darcy pale so quickly, Loki was definitely not looking forward to having a duel of any sort any time soon. Yet trapped in a sealed and warded room meant that there was no simple way to just slip away and avoid the confrontation. The best it would come down to was an extended chase. Perhaps if enough time passed he could knock the champion unconscious and expect the ward to be easier to unravel afterwards…

 _No, I…this doesn’t have to bring the Goblin Kingdom into it_ , the champion said with a shake of her head. _This is just me_.

Loki was drawn out of his plans by the astonishment in her tone. He was surprised that _she_ was surprised. Did she really not—

 _L’etat c’est moi. The Queen of the Goblins takes a position and the kingdom moves with her without fail. If you do choose to antagonise the Asgardians, well, at least allow me to shore up our defences? Even with our…complicated location that is not easy to find, we’re still not among the larger realms out there_. Tyto sounded amused than anything.

He certainly didn’t sound like a ruler whose partner was just about to commit them to war against a significantly larger kingdom. He was the only one among them all with enough presence of mind to pour tea for everyone else. Why the other magician was not more worried, Loki had no idea.

 _I’m…I’m the freaking Goblin Queen_. Peregrine still sounded as if she was mildly shocked.

 _Yes, yes you are_. Tyto nodded. Loki couldn’t help but shot him a disbelieving look. He knew he didn’t imagine the undertone of fondness there, never mind that his queen seemed to be as stable as nitroglycerin. There was just no accounting for taste sometimes.

_Queen in an absolute monarchy!_

_Well, if you wish to create a parliament, I’m washing my hands off it. It will be completely your responsibility._ The Alvar responded without thought. He saw his champion’s frown and explained. _Most wights would rather not deal with governance either. If you must know, the last time the Thing was called in the Wicht Reich, a quarter of the attendees were eaten by the others. Some are just killed in old-fashioned fights._

Darcy made an ‘eep’ sound. Tyto saw her apprehension and clarified. _It’s the circle of life. Some creatures are simply fodder to other kinds. Some groups have also been in territorial conflict for generations that they can’t sit down in one place without trying to kill each other. It was a mess just to keep the peace_.

_Um, that’s…interesting? Did any talking take place?_

His answer was simple and damning. _I can’t remember a single decision passed from then._

Darcy sighed and glanced around the table once more.

_Look, can we just shelve this for later? Any challenges, duels, whatevers? We’ve got Fimbulwinter hanging over us, we don’t need another front to fight—_

Earth _doesn’t need another front to fight,_ the Wichtkönigin groused.

Loki scoffed. _Are you telling me that Midgard wouldn’t be able to hold it back?_

 _What, you’re cheering for us now?_ Darcy asked.

 _Of course not. I am merely pointing out that your situation is far from hopeless, but if you wish to show your soft underbelly now and make it easier for the frost giants to cut out your liver, be my guest. It is your planet, after all, not mine_. He ignored the glare she sent him. Did he just use a hunting metaphor? Loki shook his head. He’d been in the company of frost giants for too long. _And can someone_ please _remove the swords? Thank you._

Darcy did just that, even when the lady Peregrine didn’t seem to be content by the action.

 _Coroné had just reminded me_ , Tyto perked up, as if he’d just truly remembered something. Loki gave him an ironic smile in return. _Whichever way the frost giant invasion goes, we can certainly wait a little while. Whether earth manages to hold them back or not, the destruction from such an act would be obvious._

 _I don’t really see how letting more victims fall would be such a good thing_ , Tyto's co-ruler remarked.

 _It’s not_ letting _if you haven’t the power to stop it._ He was quick to assure her. _The important thing to note is that once such a point is reached, the Nine Realms cannot stay neutral._

_And?_

_And, if you wish to challenge someone to a duel, it is more convenient to do so to an outcast noble than one of the current heirs_ , Tyto remarked. This time, his gaze was fully on Loki’s as he said this. The Asgardian knew it for what it was—a warning.

Loki smirked. A warning that far ahead only made it easier for him to avoid it completely.

 _Right!_ Darcy cut through the increasingly tense atmosphere. _Now that were done with the threats and posturing, can we deal with Fimbulwinter? I’d be going back to earth sometime soon with whatever contingent the Nine Realms would want to send to check out the anomaly that Veth sensed over the earth. Any advice guys? And oh, anyone who wanted to volunteer to help, especially on the magic front, is greatly appreciated._

A more thoughtful quiet grew over them. When the conversation picked up again, it was more focused and without the acrimony that was obvious earlier. Tyto actually mulled and explained several magical events he knew that might match, though they’d unfortunately have to discard several already as their details fail to match Vethrfölnir’s descriptions. It was still progress. The Queen of the Goblins managed to keep to pointed looks when Loki commented that he wouldn’t mind trying to observe the problem if he was ever close enough in the area. There was a small smile on his face before he realised it. This was also the logical conclusion to events, isn’t it?

It didn’t matter that they almost came to blows. When Darcy sat down with other people to talk, they _talked_.

‘-

Back when Darcy was still a university student, there was a little moment in one of her classes that Sarah scarcely remember. It was the time that she helped out a fellow student without a second thought.

From the first time he was in class, Sarah figured that he was one of the engineering geeks.

If his pale, barely-getting-any-sun skin wasn’t a hint, then the t-shirt he wore today would have done it; _mess with my uptime and I’ll send you all the spam_. She couldn’t help shaking her head. Most people wouldn’t have any idea what it was about, not unless they were fellow sysadmins—she only knew because one of her friends had the exact same shirt. She guessed that was what he was. What made her curious was that she was sure that this wasn’t his first non-engineering class. She realised that she’d seen him last semester in _Classical Western Literature_.

He was the guy who once volunteered to take Achilles’ perspective, to defend his actions and philosophy.

( _People say that Achilles was a narcissist, but does_ that _mean anything back then? He was a great warrior, unbeatable at the battlefield. Shouldn’t he be proud about it? He’d spent hours each day and most of his life honing his skills, learning all he can about war and training to be the best that he could be. Those abilities…they’re not something_ given _to him, even if his skin is pretty much impenetrable. No, the fighting skills…that came through from_ hard work _._

There was such conviction in his eyes that one could be forgiven for thinking that he shared Achilles’ drive.

 _If after all that he wanted to rub it in the nose of everyone who had tried to beat him and failed, well…  
That’s just human, isn’t it?_ )

He didn’t seem like a guy who’s just taking this class for his liberal arts requirement, she had mused.

Today, he sat two chairs away from her, at the back of the class. He had skulked in as quietly as he can—if the lecturer hadn’t been late, he’d certainly be unlucky.

When he pulled his book out of his bag, she knew that he really _was_ unlucky.

“Oh _shit_.”

The book was _damp_ , occasionally trailing water on the table. He didn’t look vexed as much as _vengeful_. “I’d kill those stupid _bastards_ if I ever—”

“Somebody got your book?” Sarah asked.

He seemed to only notice her just now and her voice seemed to pull him back to reality. His shoulders deflated. “One of the jerks involved is probably my roommate. Damn. I know he’s an idiot but this is just…” he took a deep breath, perhaps to forestall another rant. He scratched his head more to vent his annoyance a little than for any itch – as his hood fell back, she was surprised to see that his short hair was blond. At this distance, she could see that it was natural blond, the colour matching his eyebrows perfectly.

_Wait, why am I surprised? Because blond hair is a recessive trait, isn’t it? But why should that be a surprise…_

It was his eyes, she decided a few seconds later. They were almond-shaped. Even his facial structure didn’t seem to be that Caucasian. A tad too fine-boned. Not that she found it off-putting, she had the opposite problem, to be honest, considering her string of blond ex-boyfriends in high school…

“Do you think I can reassigned to a different dorm this far into the semester?” He asked, distracting her from staring for too long.

Sarah felt her expression moving in sympathy. “I’m sorry, but probably not. Still, I can forward you the contacts of some of my friends. They’re still looking for additional roommates for the house they’d rented. At the very least they’ve got a couch to crash if you want to avoid your resident idiot for a while.”

He had started to pull his books out, probably trying to figure out how bad the damage was.

“That might help, yes. Thanks.”

It seemed that he was lucky enough to carry a plastic folder (whatever it was for), as it had accidentally partitioned the inside and stopped the water from seeping beyond a certain point. Only another notebook or two was just as damp. The others seemed to be saved, as was his bag. Sarah remembered her habit of keeping spare plastic bags (from groceries) in her backpack (just in case) and offered two to him.

“For the damp books.”

He seemed surprised. She shrugged. “I always carry extra plastic bags with me; who knows when you’d need them?”

Well, she also carried a lighter, matches, a swiss-army knife, a bottle of salt and other useful stuff in her bag. Not that she’d list all of them now.

“Wow. You’re just a regular girl scout, aren’t you? That’s a compliment, by the way, in case I’m not obvious enough about it.”

Sarah saw that book of his that someone had probably dunked into the sink before shoving it back into his bag. Frazer’s _Golden Bough_.

She had her own dog-eared paperback at hand; truthfully, it wasn’t the only copy she had. But with Jareth’s hobby of picking up her books and writing critiques in them—and her own bad habit of not letting him have the last word and scrawl back—it was better to have a ratty copy for their back and forth than a nicer edition. It would just get on her nerves if he started scribbling in those.

“Here, use mine.”

She handed him hers. He shook his head and tried to push it back. “Oh, it’s _fine_. I’ll just have to get another from the library—”

“That’s for _later_. You won’t have any for use in class _now_ if you don’t. Just take it.” She insisted.

“I’m sure I won’t be missing much—”

Sarah rolled her eyes, took his wet books from the table and placed them into the plastic bags he was just starting to open. She pulled some tissues from her bag, wiped his table clean and dropped her book on it, ignoring his speechlessness.

Sarah smiled. “What, no thanks?”

He gave a mock bow. “Thank you very much. If you’re _really_ going to twist my arm about it, I’m going to stop complaining.”

“Good. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Professor Anderson is calling me.”

She enjoyed the surprise on his face when he figured out she was the teaching assistant for the class.

‘-

From the way the student’s bad luck had been going, Sarah wouldn’t be surprised if one of his ex-girlfriends was a witch. It would explain why all the copies in the library was checked out every time he looked, or why he couldn’t find any on the campus bookstore’s second-hand section of the shelves (sold out). It was already two weeks since the first time she lent him her copy of _the Golden Bough_. She just waved away any efforts on his side to return the book and assured him that yes, she’d almost gotten it memorised by now, anyway. He could keep using it.

On her side, Sarah had already made her peace with using her other copy of the book to write in. She simply handed the book along with a pen to the Goblin King without a word. He did not ask and she did not offer any explanation. Within a few weeks of their back and forth ‘discussions’ (arguments, more like) in the new one, she’d forgotten she ever had the ratty paperback in the first place.

Julius, on the other hand, had admitted to her more than once that her loaner book had rescued him, what with his bad luck with getting any other copy. There were also the bonus side comments could be as interesting as the book itself—he did notice there were two handwritings, a clean, readable script that didn’t surprise him, and the one with the elegant handwriting that raised both of his eyebrows.

The smile she gave him for his appreciation was blinding. Well, he knew she was taken, but there’s no harm in looking, is there?

No, he didn’t exactly ask, but he had always been an observant person, even as a child.

He can put two and two together. He privately thought the marginalia were probably the work of the TA and her boyfriend. This was because even as they snipe, dissected the text and argue in writing, the beautiful handwriting never stopped calling her ‘Precious’. The old-school penmanship tickled his curiosity—he couldn’t help but start guessing which of the professors was actually her lover.

See, that was another thing he noticed with ease. No one born within the last three or four decades casually wrote like that anymore, and he’d gladly bet two months of rent money that her guy wasn’t just another TA. That, and the depth of their exchanges and analysis were _really_ fascinating. He was totally kicking ass in essays thanks to that—that book was heaven-sent.

Was it much of a surprise that neither remembered to return the book at the end of the semester?

The book was still on the shelf above his desk then. He had carried it with him through more than one move, and every time he set up in a new place, he returned it to the same spot on the shelf, between his old copy of the _Aeneid_ and the Mandarin version of the _Romance of the Three Kingdoms_. Compared to his programming books, he scarcely touched them. Yet every time he thought of cleaning house, of selling them to second-hand bookstores, something stayed his hand.

He never quite understood what gave him pause.

‘-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a completely unrelated note, my sister gave birth to a son (yay!) and my life is currently hectic/going down the crapper (not yay. Definitely not yay). Haven't been able to write in weeks. So yeah, update will certainly slow down.
> 
>  
> 
> The Weird and Random Glossary:
> 
> **_L’etat c’est moi_ :** (History, French) _I am the State_. A statement ascribed to Louis XIV also known as the Sun King and Louis the Great. The phrase does reflect the amount of near-absolute power he wielded throughout his reign. Considering that he’d ruled effectively for most of his 72 years on the throne, even if it was apocryphal, it _is_ pretty accurate.
> 
>  ** _Nitroglycerin_ :** (Chemistry) A colourless explosive liquid that is used in the manufacture of dynamites. It’s a _contact explosive._ This means it’s as pissy as a cat in a roomful of rocking chairs—something as small as setting the box wrong on a surface might be enough to trigger it. Handle with care. Completely not recommended for amateurs. 
> 
> Loki, of course, has a highly-biased perspective of Sarah—did he seriously think she’d be happy to know he’s involved with people invading her home planet?
> 
>  
> 
> College!Julius apparently has a voice of his own and wants to sidle up my side and start quietly tell about all these interesting things he noticed about his TA and he’s damn convinced that he’s right. I simply find his so-close-yet-so-far conjectures amusing. That’s why he got a bit more time in the limelight, as it is.
> 
> To the readers who also happen to read the Labyrinth fandom, let me have it. Don't hesitate to tell me if I seem to take too many liberties in my character interpretation.
> 
>  
> 
> _ Some notes on details (again, skip this unless you like reading about me going on about details. No plot-pertinent factoids here): _
> 
> _…It was only when she felt the ribbon tilting up that she stopped. She opened her eyes, seeing only a flash of red in her hand before there was…_ : So, that part where Sarah was trying to locate the Wichtkönig by visualising strings, ropes, and ties of all kinds? Yeah, her link with him took the form of a red ribbon. If you read or watch enough Eastern stories or movies, you’ll know what the red string symbolises. It makes sense considering that the artificial world is Julius’ work, so it’s steeped in his worldview (the more technical term for it would be _Weltanschauung_ , for you word-collectors). It’s not that big deal if you don’t notice it, it’s just a nifty detail I stuck in.
> 
> '-


	47. XLVII. Earthbound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _A King Consort is not always a King Regnant. Darcy is having a cow (or several). Preparations. Leaving Asgard with Vethrfölnir leading. Loki is out for an afternoon stroll in Midgard. The Avengers are Incredulous._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life's still a bit of a mess because I have to find a new job/current one is a dead end. Add some throat infection that's making my lymph nodes there swell, and it's a real pain to get through/swallow things without wanting to vomit. I just got lucky to have an Icelandic reviewer in Jd-dox back at FFNet a few days ago, and the rather in-depth review helped gel some of my ideas together. 
> 
> Storywise, we're approaching an important turning point here, and it's precisely because of it that it's a freaking challenge to write. I had to put on avant-garde metal to help block out the world to write it down. (Diablo Swing Orchestra, for those who wondered).

### XLVII. Earthbound

Just before Sarah pulled on the weft and weave of the ward holding their illusionary sitting room together, the Goblin King laid his hand over hers.

_Let me assist you. It would be more convenient if we were to return to separate positions in your establishment. That way, no one would guess that we are more than strangers to each other._

It had confused Darcy.

_Um, why would we need to do that?_

Mismatched blue eyes met her questioning gaze. They were cold and unreadable and Darcy held back a shiver. _I care not if your enemies know I am associated with you. But would you wish for my enemies to know that you know me? Or for Coroné’s enemies to know of you?_

_No_. Loki answered far quicker than Darcy could, his eyes flickering to hers for a passing moment that she didn’t quite understand. _Of course not_.

The last thing she saw was lines radiating outwards from where Sarah was sitting, the room splitting like an overripe peach and—

The scent of smoke and absinthe curled around her under the intentional half-light of the club. The wooden bar was smooth under her hand.

Trumpets blared from the stage, the new singer, the blonde and masked Polly Glossa continued to croon into the night.

Darcy blinked several times, trying to adjust her eyes to the club’s relative darkness. She was…behind the bar? Why was she behind the bar? There were two drinks she’d finished mixing, and even if she had no idea whose orders they were, calling them out to the bar easily brought raised hands that claimed them.

She supposed this meant that Tyto’s idea worked, then.

_Miss Ikhne?_

She turned around. Dark burgundy vest complimented his metallic crimson complexion—he had forgone his fake human skin. It probably meant that there were no cops around for now. The robot known as Vision had returned from the dance floor.

_You can drop the Miss, really_ , she insisted.

_Number 19 has the floor well at hand, I can return to the bar and not trouble you any longer_. He answered, still a tad too formal for Darcy’s tastes.

_It’s no trouble at all—_ she started.

_Susie May wishes me to relay her message to you: ‘That swanky sharper of yours is sweet-talking some blue-coloured mob captain, Sugar. I don’t know whether the cap’s a mark or not, but it’s a dangerous game all the same. Thought you should know. Just in case you need to bail him out’_

Most people would be weirded out to hear Vision’s voice suddenly changing in the middle as he perfectly imitated Susie May’s Southern accent. Darcy had seen him do it often enough to get used to it—she was more worried about the sharper the waitress referred to. There was only one sharp-dressed man of questionable calling that her staff recognised on sight, simply because he hung around so much.

_Right! Thanks for that, Vision! I’ll just…be on my way._

Darcy sprinted.

_Oh Lope, what are you up to now?_

‘-

The room opened with a thousand streaming ribbons, like a chrysanthemum blossoming. Motes of glowing dust swirled and flew up in the air, seemingly unnoticed by most of the club’s patrons. Coroné and Darcy was nowhere to be seen. At the corners of her eyes, slipping among the crowd, Sarah could see goblins sneaking away with folded panels of silk screens.

Now, it was just them on the table overseeing the dance floor; Sarah and the gentleman with thistledown hair.

_I’ll find you as soon as I arrive at the castle_ , the Goblin King said.

_Um, castle?_

_The Castle Beyond the Goblin City_ , he answered with ease. _Now that you’ve accepted your crown, you’d prefer to get back to earth once you wake up, don’t you? I’m sure Philippe would be looking for you otherwise_.

She sent him a sharp look about that. Philippe was a Reuters correspondent in Gandhara that she was friendly with. They’ve gone out for coffee often enough and even managed a date night or two there. He was a charming guy who didn’t take himself too seriously, and they were close enough that she even told him she was going off to Gulmira for a personal investigation for a while. She even informed him when she was going to New York ‘following some leads’ as well. Sarah rubbed her forehead.

_God, are you stalking me_ again _?_

His expression barely changed except for a careless, Gallic shrug. He was seemingly more interested with the blonde with the mask (Polly) singing on stage than on her.

_I have to keep an eye on your prospective King Consorts, don’t I? Just in case one of them is an agent for another kingdom trying to slip in._ There was an almost unnoticeable tension in his voice. _We wouldn’t want an assassin getting in on false pretences either, would we?_

His hand, she noticed, almost crushed the crystal ball he was idly toying with before he relaxed himself.

That was when she came to the startling realisation that he was much more aware of what being a Queen Regnant entailed than she did, and certainly longer than she did— _she was free to marry someone else_. Perhaps that was even why he’d always kept close tabs on the men she dated. It was…an odd realisation, with an unaccountable aftertaste of guilt. (What did she have to feel guilty for, anyway? He might be justified in keeping track of who was around her, but he had no business in making the lives of the men she dated difficult. That was just personal pettiness to him.)

_I’ll do that for you too_ , the words came out of her mouth before she could think about it.

_Pardon me?_

_You can introduce me to anyone you’re interested in? You know, noblewomen who might end up being your Queen Consort? I’m a pretty good judge of character. I might not know whether she’s a spy or not, but I can certainly tell the two-faced ones apart very quickly._ Sarah offered. They’re partners when it comes to the Goblin Kingdom now, right? Quid pro quo; she can do this.

His pale unblinking gaze was unnerving. Just when she was about to fidget, his lips curved slightly upwards. There was more than a touch of melancholy in it.

_No, need to worry about that_ , he replied with ease. _There is no one that I need to introduce to you as candidate._

_Tyto—_

_It’s_ fine _, Precious._

Their stares met each other’s, both just as stubborn. He didn’t yield and she hadn’t given up.

_I’m sure there’s someone—_

_It matters not. Until the world falls down_.

His voice was quiet, and yet she could hear it clearly above the din of the crowd—as sombre as a funeral bell tolling over a graveyard and with the same unearthly sense of finality. The silence froze over, turning brittle between them. He smiled (if she tilted her head sideways and squinted a bit, it _might_ be apologetic). Then, he stood up to take his leave with a nod and no more words.

Because really, they both knew what his unsaid lines were. Even if in her case, she wished she _didn’t_ know.

( _There’s only one that I ever had in mind_.)

Sometimes, Sarah thought to herself, they understood each other a little too well.

‘-

Darcy gave Vision her hurried thanks as she rushed away.

_Oh Lope, what are you up to now?_

She had been crossing the dance floor. Loki was across the room—it wasn’t hard to find him, simply because he was on the only table that had three frost giants.

Darcy dodged the dancers, the flappers feverish with freedom and the made men looking for a mighty good time.

_…all things considered, the Great Ass is probably moving tomorrow_ , the shortest among the frost giants said. His voice rose easily above the people around him.

_It’s already time for battlefield earth, is it?_ Loki’s voice replied.

Darcy gasped. Just as their eyes connected, everything slowed down. The music was fading away into the distance, the voices growing silent. Fracture lines spread across the world and the scene shattered like glass, its pieces falling away into the endless sky. For the second time that night, the room she was in disappeared. Instead of darkness, what she saw was growing light all around her, and—

The brunette sat up with a jolt, her heart hammering in her chest as if she’d just ran a mile. Sun shone on her face, courtesy of the redhead pulling the curtains open. The light made the cream wallpaper and brass accents of the room glow with warmth.

“Good morning, Lady Darcy,” Malmury greeted cheerfully.

_Okay, that was weird_ , she thought. _Wasn’t Malmury still moping about being taken off from her weaving group, or something?_

“Morning,” Darcy managed to reply when her chest didn’t beat so much like a hunted gazelle’s. “You’ve got good news?”

The Asgardian’s smile was bright. “Thanks to you, My Lady, I have.”

“Uh, you’re welcome? Seriously, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“It’s Midgard, Lady Darcy. I can hardly believe I’ll have the chance to go there! No one has ever gone there in centuries—well, perhaps the princes and the renowned warriors of the land, but they are all incomparable personages compared to my simple self. As your handmaiden, I will accompany you wherever you go and it’s just—” Malmury took a deep breath, and Darcy watched with eagle eyes to ensure she wasn’t hyperventilating.

“Don’t forget to _breathe_ , Malmury.” Darcy had stood up at this point, gingerly patting the other young woman’s back.

“Just, absolutely _fantastic_.”  The last came out as a breathy whisper and eyes that were unbelievably shiny.

“Um. O… _kay_?”

The redhead was gazing at Darcy with the kind of look that kids reserve for candy stores. It was the same sort of wonder that Jane had when she was greedily ploughing through the reams of papers on the newly-found Higgs boson.

“The Allfather had practically closed—closed!—travel to and from Midgard to prevent undue influence and contamination. And to prevent war from spilling over, of course; it’s impossible to forget the main concern back in the Age of War. To be able to be among the first to set foot once more in Midgard, to set eyes in such pristine preserve world for the first time…”

Darcy coughed, having _no idea_ where she should start to disillusion Malmury’s dreams. _Pristine my lily-white ass_.

It was less like visiting some idyllic Arcadia and more like a modern person suddenly dropped in 18th century London in the middle of the industrial-revolution. They’d be appalled at how casual everyone is about toxins, or how soup-like the air was. _Hello smoke and lung rot! Nice to meet you, acute respiratory illnesses! Would you like some phossy jaws to go with upchucking your lungs—maybe corrode your cheek bones a bit and get that fashionable, supermodel lean look?_

She didn’t know how other diplomats would do this or if they would keep spouting flattering words about their homeland. What Darcy knew was that she was going to break those dreams _fast_.

“You know, Malmury, not having high-level magic for tech meant that there’s a _lot_ of crappy things on earth. We leave really stinky and smelly tracks all over the planet. God, you should know that we still use a lot of _landfills_. Don’t get me started on where all the 21 st century electronic waste with its rare toxic metal compounds end up at and what that does for the property values around it…”

As Darcy changed and went out with Malmury looking for breakfast, Project Grand Disillusionment began.

‘-

Eir gave her an amulet when she dropped in at the infirmary. The fine-filigreed copper wires curled in the shape of a four-leaved clover, four semiprecious green stone formed the leaves. It was more elegant than Darcy’s usual fare.

“You needn’t have,” Darcy started, eyes wide.

The healer only smiled. “It’s only a mere trinket, Darcy. Many children are given these in the Nine Realms to assist with their magical studies.”

“Um, I don’t even know how.”

The healer’s smile was comforting. “Oh, it’s not for anything complicated, I assure you. Here, put this on and let me demonstrate.”

Darcy did as she was asked, and gave the healer her left hand when requested. She didn’t see the knife in the Aesir’s grip and yelped at the small cut she’d made. It was only an overly-large papercut in size.

“I’m sorry, but it’s less painful if you’re not expecting it. Now, do you see what’s happening to the wound?”

The wound was slowly but unbelievably closing. “Whoa. I thought the amulet is to learn magic?”

“It is. Close your eyes. Now, take a deep breath and hold. Exhale. Try to feel the warmth inside you, around here or here,” Eir gave the lightest tap on Darcy’s stomach, just below her sternum, and on her navel. “Do you feel it flowing outwards? Can you feel it flowing down your arm and to your hand?”

“I got it!” She almost jumped in her seat in excitement. She stared at the wound again as she lost that faint trickle, a pout forming on her lips. “Dammit, it’s gone again…”

“Well, it’s usually easier to focus with your eyes close, less of a distraction.”

“Alright. So, what does this necklace do?”

“It helps direct your magic in basic, self-defence ways. The goal is to remember how it feels and then try to do it yourself without wearing the amulet.”

“But if I fail, I’d be bleeding!”

The Aesir raised an eyebrow at that. “Well, if your efforts haven’t succeeded yet, you can simply wear the amulet again and it would do it for you. It also helps hardens your flesh, but that’s subtler and harder to learn than wound-repair. Remember to eat afterwards—the energy must come from somewhere, after all.”

“Huh. That’s nifty. So that’s how it would help with the magic-learning bit.”

Eir nodded. “I thought it is. When I heard from Idunn that you were heading straight towards battle, I wanted to do something.”

“Um. Thanks. I mean, I’ve only just arrived, but you’ve been really nice and I don’t know how to thank you at all. It’s really appreciated, though—”

Eir stopped her from babbling further by the simple expedience of a hug. The healer patted Darcy’s back.

“You’re welcome, Darcy, and good luck.”

‘-

Provisions. That was the key word.

It was brought to Darcy’s attention just how prosperous Asgard was. They did not blink with furnishing her with a complete wardrobe within a day or two of her arrival. It was truly hers, from the way Malmury was determinedly sorting and packing through them. When Darcy said it was too much, the handmaiden easily showed Darcy _her_ wardrobe, and she was packing almost as much into her trunks. In Malmury’s perspective, all that Darcy received was her due, and it was just another unsurprising fact of life to her.

The brunette didn’t think she’d need all those clothes if she was just going home to earth, but Malmury insisted that she’d need it for formal state dinners. If she was going to open her drawing room to the members of the diplomatic corps once she was back, more wardrobe rather than less would help make an impression. If Darcy didn’t take it, it would all just collect mothball in some forgotten storage corner of the Golden Hall, the redhead clarified, still with the same casual ease. She even recommended Darcy to talk to other ambassadors if she didn’t believe that Asgard provisioned all of them equally and with the same equanimity.

_Alright_ , she thought. _I’ll just take all of it as a gift and tell the higher-ups about it_.

She’d let Washington worry about paying it back or getting even with Asgard, or asking Asgard to send an ambassador and pamper _that_ guy in return. Whatever happens, it was beyond her paygrade now. At the moment, all she needed to do was wrap her head around the fact that she was going to go back _home_ and a lot faster than she expected to. Not to mention that she was accompanied by a team that might be able to help with the Denver mess they were going through.

She and Malmury entered one of the eastern lobbies, the bright marble floors blinding her where the sun struck and was reflected back up. The pillars were gilded with gold at their feet and crown, carefully wrought with decorative vines so detailed that they look alive, with their blossoms inlaid with mother-of-pearl. Right now, she felt no interest to gawk. At all. _All this pressure isn’t good for me,_ she thought with a sigh. She was even beginning to feel jaded at the grandeur of the Golden Hall! What was the world coming to?

At the very least, Asgard’s team was more for Fimbulwinter than frost giants, but she was pretty sure that neither Sif nor Avaldi was going to turn down a good fight with frost giants if it comes to that. She had back up. So, her situation wasn’t _that_ bad, right?

_Crap_ , Darcy cursed herself.

_I’ve just jinxed myself there, haven’t I?_

Sif stood resplendent in armour, talking to a similarly-armoured Avaldi and…another fire giant? Huh. Whoever it was, he was certainly Avaldi’s junior, considering how awkward he was hovering behind Avaldi. There were several other Asgardians she didn’t know that she was easily introduced to, more staff for either Bragi or Sif, she thought—not that their names stuck right now.

Standing with utmost serenity even among the bustle of servants rearranging luggage was Veth, his coronet of pewter feathery crystals on his head while his long hair fell down his back. Next to him was Asgard’s Bard. Bragi’s expression lit up with friendliness when he saw her.

“Darcy! And Malmury. Good, now that you’re here we can leave.”

He gave them both a large grey feather that shimmered slightly at the edge of sight. “Tuck that inside your clothes and make sure it is always in contact with your skin.”

“Uh, _why_?”

“Because Vethrfölnir will take everyone in flight; I hear Midgard’s Bifrost has yet to be fully functional again. We wouldn’t want ole Veth to lose track of someone in the middle of higher space, do we?” He smiled widely. “Unless one were too curious about what it feels to free fall—it would be _such_ an interesting experience! Heart-stopping and terror-inducing half the time, but I suppose it would also be quite _thrilling_.”

Darcy gulped. “Right. _No thanks_. I’ll just…be safely secured all the way to earth. Yes! That’s what I’ll be!”

“Darcy?”

Sif called from her left. In her hand were two leather strings. That was when Darcy saw the ends of a grey feather poking out from under Sif’s vambrace. When she glanced at Avaldi, he showed her his wrist too, and she could see the same feather from under his armour.

“Thank you very much, Lady Sif,” Malmury said, being quicker on the uptake than Darcy.

“Yeah, thanks. I was wondering how I’ll secure it.” Actually, she was thinking of slipping it inside her bra. With the size of her boobs, it was plenty secure, but none of the Aesir needed to hear that. Nope.

‘-

They made a circle around Veth, holding hands. Sif was to Darcy’s left while Malmury was to her right. Avaldi was to Sif’s left, getting into a minor argument with the Asgardian because he insisted on carrying a thick leather tome with him and it made linking their hands more than a little awkward.

“You can place it in your chest of belongings—”

“That would defeat the purpose of having it at hand—”

“For what cause would you need it at hand?”

“It is some reading material that Geilir insisted I read.”

Sif raised one eyebrow, “have you even tried reading a tome so archaic before?”

“There’s always the first time for everything.” Avaldi replied with conviction. Sif scoffed in disbelief.

“You could scarce stand to read the older sagas! I found you _asleep_ in the library the other day—”

“I had been low on sleep—” the fire giant insisted.

Huh, that was interesting. She didn’t know that fire giants can actually turn that shade of red as their discussion (argument?) continued. Darcy had to hold back the urge to chuckle when the fire giant shoved it unceremoniously to one of the pockets of his great coat with stubbornness. The book awkwardly hung out even then.

Behind them in a larger circle was whatever provisions and luggage had been packed, linked by one long chain. Veth himself made a complete turn, observing them with a critical eye (though Darcy would be honest that she had no idea what he was looking for). He then pulled a silver chain from around his neck, holding it in the palm of his left hand.

If it was a necklace, it was curiously devoid of any pendant. That was until she saw tiny crystals dotting one end, so small they were barely noticeable.

“Everyone, please close your eyes. You are welcome to keep them open if you feel the nausea will not overtake you, but I have found that it will give you more ease if you allow me to guide your breathing.”

Well, Darcy certainly wasn’t going to argue with a spirit-bound elf.

“Take a deep breath, slowly; one… two… three, hold. Now, release it just as gently, one… two… three…”

It was a few more breathing cycles like this before she felt the wind rising around them. Then, there was the feeling that someone had just spread immense wings in front of her, but even as this happened, Veth’s voice did not cease. It was calm and steady, a lifeline to hold and follow.

“There we go…”

The last words were only a hair above a whisper, but she could hear him just as well. Before Darcy could open her eyes, she could feel that she was somehow being _folded_. Yet it didn’t make sense, considering that she still felt that she was standing, that her arms and legs were straight. She was just as sure that she was folded sideways, compacted, and linked tightly to her neighbours, in a place so nicely padded that it felt like sitting on a comfortable couch.

Darcy dared to open one eye at first, and when nothing happened, she opened the other.

“Whoa!”

Her voice was muffled—probably drowned out by the thrum of the engine, Darcy mused. They were flying away from Asgard at the speed of a rocket—she could see the Golden Hall on top of the hill getting increasingly smaller. She could see the golden city spread below her, its streets and path blossoming out from the hall with the precise intricacy of a sunflower’s heart. And yet she barely felt the drag of gravity trying to drag them back to the ground. What little she felt was very slight, not much more than riding an elevator at Stark Tower.

And well, apparently her cabin was a glass ball.

She opened her eyes wide. Her couch was made of fluffy down feathers, but it wasn’t what had caught her attention. She had noticed that it wasn’t the hum of an engine that she thought she heard. It was less of a hum and more of a subsonic thrum, still below hearing threshold but distinctly _there_.

It was the thrum of _magic_.

The feeling was similar to standing right next to a live wire—it was only after a while, when she figured out that she wasn’t going to get electrocuted in any way that Darcy could relax. A much weaker warmth came from the feather tied to her arm, and she could ignore that easily. The background thrum was almost comfortable, in a way, like sitting on a massage chair. The sensation was strongest at the back of her neck, at her back than her front.

So, _of course_ she turned around.

All she could see from the back of her glass ball was a wall covered in iridescent tiles the size of a manhole cover, extending endlessly to her left side (if she was sitting facing the front), while the right side slowly curved back. A glance up told her that the wall might as well be a tower wall as it went up, up and up as far as the eye can see. _Well, that was boring. What’s this weird tower about, anyway? Is it a real rocket?_ Somehow, she doubted that, what with the magic vibes she was getting. Looking behind her and down, the odd tower curved away from her, but she saw nothing like flames or rocket exhaust. Squinting out to her right and left, she could see other great glass balls a stone’s throw away on either side, but the slightly opaque mirror-finish didn’t really help her see the passengers there. If her guess was right, it was probably Sif and Malmury.

They were leaving the planet at unbelievable speeds—the horizon had started curving by now. It was eerie, especially when she barely felt the motion herself. Darcy soon moved her gaze away. There was this curious movement somewhere a little below and to the back on her right. Like a distant flutter of scarf streaming in the air…

She fiddled with the clover necklace she had from Eir while she mulled over things.

Darcy shook her head. No, describing it as a scarf wasn’t quite right. The movement was too regular. There! It flickered back to the front before receding down and back. It rises and falls. Almost like the long crest of a wave coming to the shore that she saw from the top of cliffs – it seemed small only because it was so distant. And yet it still wasn’t the best way to describe it…

The horizon was now not only a gentle curve but one continuous arc that slowly fell lower relative to her position. A glance down at Asgard showed that she could no longer see the details of cities or the trees in the forests, just a swathe of green and different tones of wheat. As they weren’t merely going up but also sideways, they were leaving the continent where the Golden Hall was located at as an ocean came up.

That was when Darcy noticed the shadow.

It spanned the length of the northern continent, hugging the ground close. It rose with hills and the occasional mountain and fell following valleys and basins. Cities fell under shade for a few minutes when it passed.

It was the shadow of a _freaking gigantic bird of prey_.

Her hand closed around the clover pendant. She turned her head quickly at the cresting and falling wave that she’d thought to be a scarf somewhere to her lower right, and that was when she realised what it was. It was a grey, _massive_ bird _wing_. The tile covered wall behind her glass cabin? With a new realisation, she realised they were _feathers_.

She couldn’t help the slightly hysterical laughter bursting from her lips. They were, what? Inside teeny tiny beads worn as necklace by _Vethrfölnir the Hawk_.

If she had no idea of the scale of the land and primordial spirits before, she was very well informed now.

“Dammit. If I knew we’re in for a long flight, I’d have gotten something to read.” Darcy muttered.

Avaldi’s insistence on carrying the awkward tome with him made much more sense now.

‘-

The inclement thunderstorm covered a large region of Midgard’s continent, courtesy of Altgjöf casually riding on a tree branch high up at the upper levels of the troposphere for maximum weather interference. The witch had been kept by Byleistr as his left-hand due to her massive chest.

Said chest definitely came along for the ride and opened wide at the moment to make the terrain increasingly hostile to the Midgardians. Now, instead of fighting back like a wasp with a hivemind, they were more like clusters of mosquitoes now, falling apart into smaller and more manageable pockets that was all-too-easy to be crushed with the frost giant’s greater size and strength. It was rather pathetic to see that their communication method was so easy to disrupt.

Then again, how many star systems prepare for war with Casket of Ancient Winters in mind? It was the frost giants that had an unnatural edge here. Loki was quite confident that without him and Helblindi, their offence would have been more pathetic.

Not that Loki cared about these little details at the moment. He had more interesting things to do.

Helblindi was back at the bowl of the valley, giving the finishing touch there. Loki had teleported to several portals to check what part of Midgard was on the other side, stepping inside a few, making notes on his mental map and then teleporting on again to the next portal. The frost giants about to go there usually grumbled when he cut their line, but rank has it privileges.

Now, he was quite certain that the Avengers were here somehow…

Ah, there they are. He’d recognise that flying shield anywhere. Loki gave a casual nod at the clan right-hand man that was guarding the portal, a frost giant whose expression was a confusing mix of wariness and disgust. _Must be one of Byleistr’s clans, then_ , he thought idly. Without much fanfare, Loki stepped through.

‘-

It was hard to see the sun in the sky, with the darkness of the cloud cover. The wind was not much friendlier either.

Compared to Jötunheim, though, it was warm.

The moment he stepped through, he had to shield himself from an arrow and several high-speed projectiles the Midgardians were shooting at him. He’d barely even taken in the field yet, but fortunately, he did notice a convenient five-story building that wasn’t completely destroyed yet and he now perched at the top. It was a mostly-ruined urban landscape, the buildings all boxy and ugly in the way of a not-ache at the back of his teeth. Even if not to the extent of the dwellers of Alfheim or even Vanaheim, Asgardians still care about elegance.

Based on his experience, the phrase Midgardian aesthetics was an oxymoron most of the time.

“Oh, come on, now—that’s not polite at all. Do you do that to all guests?” Loki asked, his tone mildly disapproving. He had set the air to magically carry voice better when he saw the ordinary soldiers tensing at his arrival.

“When you’re an enemy combatant, Loki, we give you a welcome fit for one.” Captain America answered, even as he downed three frost giants coming after him. Bright and steady, he was an unwavering beacon of hope and courage.

All the goodness fit to induce vomiting, but Loki didn’t let a flicker of that thought to surface.

He raised both of his hands casually, even as he teleported away when a soldier aimed a grenade launcher in his direction.

“Have I attacked you yet?” He asked, leaning against the walls of a store that was falling apart.

He dispassionately watched the frost giants roared and surged against the Midgardian team.

“You’re just waiting for us to let our guards down.” There was a cold edge to the voice. Loki turned his head trying to locate it—it was higher than street level. Ah, it was the archer, wasn’t it? He was good enough to not even pause his words as he let loose his next few arrows. Loki didn’t even bother shielding himself after the first time. He had a feeling that these would be explosives—his intuition was proven true when the crumbling storefront fell into itself altogether with a bang. The same happened to the next rooftop he had casually landed at.

Loki final teleportation landed him a stone’s throw away from the Captain – close enough to see each other’s expressions, but not close enough to be pulled into a mêlée that consisted of the hero and the angry frost giants all around them.

“I, Loki of Asgard, invoke guest rights for a parley,” Loki said casually.

Captain America was incredulous. It might have something to do with all the punches and throws he had to do at the moment because the frost giants were stuck on bringing him down. Another throw of his shield cut a swathe of frost giants from a section on his left side.

“While you’re sending frost giants to attack us?” Steve asked.

Loki stared heavenwards with a sigh before he assisted the superhero to kick some frost giants farther away, stopping them from completely dogpiling the Avenger.

“Ah, that’s where you’re mistaken. I don’t command this army. That would be Byleistr, King of the Jötnar. I merely happen to be strolling in the direction of Midgard this afternoon.”

The spell he did to carry voices of the commanders in the battlefield was very good, because he could hear both the disbelieving snort of the Captain and the archer’s huff. He had only opened his mouth to speak again when his entire spine tingled with danger, and so he _moved_.

It was the right decision, because a moment slower and the redheaded assassin would have shanked him in the kidney—he hadn’t noticed the manhole behind him. His heartbeat was unpleasantly starting to rise, reminding him that he would rather not try to hold all of them back forever.

“Parley,” he said, with the same languid ease. With a casual wave of his hand, he changed his outfit from his usual leather armour to the black suit he was particular to wearing in the _Two Queens_. An incongruous violet scarf curled around his neck. He had been speaking English half the time now instead of sticking fully with Allspeak, not that the Midgardians would notice.

The frost giants would, though, but from what snippets they can hear, they’ll merely think that he was taunting the Midgardians.

He snapped his fingers in realisation. “Ah, I needed a white flag for this, don’t I? I knew I was forgetting something.”

He pulled a wide handkerchief into his left hand, waving it with uncommon cheer at the Avengers. Even from this distance, he could see Captain America’s brows rising up, mouth slightly open. He didn’t miss the disbelieving looks of the other members either.

“Don’t tell me you’re not interested to know just where precisely the frost giants placed their portals. Do you even know how many they are?” He asked, the Midgardians clearly finding his grin disconcertingly wide. “Come on, _let’s play a game_. I will be magnanimous enough to grant you free guesses for now. How many portals do you think are there?”

Captain America was frowning. “Why are you doing this, Loki?”

Loki rubbed the bridge of his nose—playing the great game with slow people is a special level of pain.

“Does it matter as long as you gain the information you wish and I gain what I’m looking for?”

“There are around thirty portals.” The redhead spoke up from the pile of frost giants she’d just downed. Loki was quite thankful that he was all the way across the street from her. The street was starting to clear at this point.

She also had enough cunning to not phrase it as a question. This way, his reply or answer could not be said as a favour that he’d given the Midgardians—she did not even ask, after all. His estimate of her rose.

“I have personally counted forty-three,” he said, “but there are some other reports I’ve yet to incorporate into my map. Based on the way they are clustered, I presume it would be closer to fifty.” Loki stated, his hands in his pockets. He could see their surprise and wariness in the way their body language changed, becoming tenser.

The redhead lifted her hand, stopping her teammates from speaking up or continuing to attack him.

“Were we to accept your parley, what are the terms for it?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary. Safe passage for me to enter and leave a neutral place of your choosing, and I will not attack you on your arrival and departure, nor would I order any other being to do so. Do not, however, mistake the attacking frost giants as anything I command. I can scarcely care less about what happens to them—deal with them as you wish.”

“And yet they do not attack you,” the redhead stated again.

Her voice was too neutral, without an easy emotional register to read. That was when his suspicions that they were of the same occupation crossed his mind. Those who walk the shadows of truth and lies can recognise a kindred soul.

Loki’s shrug was a thing of elegance, a completely human gesture he’d picked up. “I am a known visitor to their courts. Now, if that is all, may we repair somewhere else?”

He waved his white handkerchief at them.

“I don’t trust him,” Captain America said.

Loki huffed and had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. “Of _course_ you don’t trust me. _I_ don’t trust you either, but there are certain universal values that are constant and we can work within that.”

“Like parley,” the redhead stated.

“And guest rights. You will note that I did not break that even when you insist on imprisoning me before,” Loki finished for her, slowly approaching the Midgardian party. “Now, if you please?”

There were some silent eye-conversation going on between the blond, courageous hero of Midgard and the redhead, punctuated with the occasional huff, tilted head or chin pointed somewhere. Loki didn’t pretend to even understand what was going on—it was clear that they had years and decades of working together. In the background, he could see the archer climbing down from a dilapidated store front. Some of the more common soldiers had started to band together and was warily approaching the Avengers duo from behind.

Captain America sighed.

“I, Captain America, accept your request for a parley on behalf of Earth.” He said. Loki continued to stare at him wordlessly for a while, leading to a slight confusion.

“And we will take you as our guest for now,” the redhead finished.

Loki grinned and clapped his hands together. “Excellent.”  

The Captain fell behind as they walked back towards the Midgardians’ temporary command, wherever it was in this blighted city. It was the redhead that walked on his right. The archer was on his left, but a good distance away compared to the redhead. The other soldiers have begun to carefully rearrange themselves around the group.

Based on their formation, he was either a highly-protected VIP or a dangerous prisoner that needed to be escorted. It was hard not to feel proud at how much the Midgardians fear him. It was why it was hard to tamp down on his grin.

“We’ll have to take the jeep back,” the redhead said, “the camp is some distance away from the front.”

He nodded without care. What were distances for someone like him? He can always teleport back on his return trip. The farther they walked back, the more soldiers seem to break off and join their group. After another turn, he saw a row of rugged, primitive vehicles waiting in line—these were called ‘jeep’, he supposed. The redhead was professional in directing him where to go, and she sat right next to him. To his surprise, the archer did not choose to take a seat on his other side—it was Captain America that did.

The quiet was only broken by the hum of the engines once vehicles began moving.

“So,” Loki said casually, “has anyone seen the third season of Game of Thrones?”

More than one soldier was giving him a look of pure ‘what in all the Rivers of Niflheim is going on?!’. The redhead only raised an eyebrow. One of the soldiers at the front spoke up, her voice unaccountably young to his ears. Not that Asgard was any different in sending their youth to war—it was why it barely fazed him.

“You know that the fifth season has started, don’t you?” She asked.

“No, and I do not wish to hear anything that might ruin that. What do you call it… _spoilers_. Yes, I do not wish for any _spoilers_.” His reply was firm. “I am, however, at leisure to discuss the earlier ones all the way up to the third season.”

The blond superhero must be sending some wordless question to the redhead over Loki’s head, because she gave him an answer.

“It’s a gritty fantasy TV series,” the redhead explained.

“How on earth did he even follow that in Asgard?” The Captain asked.

Everyone on the jeep would later agree that Loki’s smirk was exceedingly annoying as he replied. “Well, wouldn’t you like to know?”

‘-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because there is no way that the God of Mischief is not a troll.
> 
> Random note: Jd-dox confirmed that I didn't mess up with something syntactically Frankenstein for one of Darcy's nicknames. Litavindr does have a meaning in Icelandic: wind of colours (yeah, a tad Disney Pocahontas, but eh). Will probably edit that in the previous chapters later.
> 
>  
> 
> The Weird and Random Glossary:
> 
> **_Phossy Jaw,_ formally _Phosphorus Necrosis of the Jaw_ :** (Medical History) A disease that strikes down those who work with white phosphorus, in late 19th century and early 20th century, this generally means matchstick workers. The vapours cause the bones of the jaw to decay, the signs of which is copious abscess/pus. I’m completely unsurprised that many of its victims also die of the secondary cause of malnutrition—can’t imagine eating with the hammering pain that is an abscessing jaw.
> 
> Frankly, any disease with the word ‘necrosis’ (tissue death/rot) in its name has me sprinting in the other direction, right into a decontamination chamber if necessary.
> 
> **_Sharper_ :** (Slang, 1920s-1930s) A swindler or a sneaky person. I suspect the word sharp here is related to the one in the phrase ‘card sharp’.
> 
> **_Swanky_ :** (Slang, 1920s-1930s) Ritzy (word formed based on the Ritz hotel), elegant, glamorous
> 
> ‘-


End file.
